You Shrink So Too?
by SoFrost
Summary: They act like a divorced couple, they fight like a divorced couple… oh well, same players, new try. (What do you shrink? Sequel) C/S
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I still don't own anything but my poor words

**Summary**: They act like a divorced couple, they fight like a divorced couple… oh well, same players, new try. (What do you shrink? Sequel) C/S

**A/N**: Guess who's back? I know it's been a very long time, Mojo took its sweet time to give life to my ideas. Anyway, this is the sequel of What Do You Shrink?, hopefully this part will give you a new point of view for the other one ;). It's a C/S story but I'm warning you from the get go Greg is neither dead or going to die, deal with it :P.

Again it's a C/S story, so if it's still not your thing and you don't like, don't read ;)

Hope you enjoy,

So ;)

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**You Shrink So Too?**

**By SoFrost**

**Chapter 1**

_Adam's POV_

Sara and I have been sharing silence for the past twenty minutes. She's biting her nails a bad habit she has picked up during the past months. She has let her hair grow, it is falling over her shoulders now, I don't know if it's by choice or just because she hasn't given it too much thought. She has lost weight, quite a few pounds actually; her cheeks are a bit hollow and her clothes slightly big on her.

There are scars on her face, her forearms and hands, faint lines of her lighter complexion than her skin; permanent reminder of a car accident she had two months ago.

Those details about her should concerned me and make me question her state of mind; they don't however because I've been on the first row for the past two months. I've seen her struggling with herself when she hit a very low point in her life.

Two months ago she came to me, distraught and angry, it took a lot from her and from me to make her admit that she needed help and was no longer able to control her yearning to hurt herself; to be blunt about it, she was suicidal.

Now let's not be naïve, she's not miraculously fine after two months under my close watch. She's just a little more stable emotionally and no longer an immediate threat to herself, which is a non negligible improvement.

After her meltdown, I allowed her to sleep in my office couch while I spend hours watching over her and thinking of where things would go from there. I gave her three choices, none were appealing but then again she had come to my office to push the alarm button, which didn't give me many options in response.

The first option I gave her was to willingly being interned in a psychiatric ward; that involve being put under a daily dose of heavy medication and also a daily session of therapy. Choice number two was that she stayed out but with the same details. Option three, was a two week retreat in the centre I once brought her to with Catherine, daily therapy, but no drugs. She picked option three, because the idea of being under medication frightened her more than anything.

Of course two weeks away from the city weren't going to do the work alone. Ever since we returned, we've been having four sessions a week and she must report to me every five hours. One undeniable proof that she had hit the bottom is the fact that she hasn't complain about her obligation towards me, nor put up a fight about it.

We haven't been talking about the issues which triggered her breakdown, and for once I haven't pushed her to talk about it for she wasn't ready. In fact during those past months we have done two things, sharing silence and every now and then she talked to me about her need to hurt herself, when it started and a few episodes she has endured during her life.

There's also another reason why I haven't pushed her to talk to me. An issue her and I need to discuss, I've waited up until now because she was too fragile before. Now that she has most of her emotional equilibrium back, I can't delay that conversation any further.

Sara unexpectedly snorts and shakes her head. "Take them off already and hit me, will you."

"Beg your pardon?" I ask with a slight confusion.

"Your gloves," she elaborates. "Take them off and hit me with whatever it is you got up your sleeves."

She reaches out for her glass of water which is resting on my coffee table and takes a sip. "Our very first session, I told you that since I'm going to get screwed anyway not to bother with the foreplays," she puts her glass back down and pushes herself to the back of the couch crossing her arms over her chest.

"True," I confirm, remembering our first encounter in my office.

"So take your gloves off and skip the foreplays."

"Fair enough," I reply.

I don't add anything, pondering how to formulate my thoughts

"Go on, ask your question," she presses me.

"It's not a question actually," I inform her. "In regards of what happened lately, I've been… contemplating the idea of redirecting you to someone else."

"What?" her brow furrows. I can see emotions flicking rapidly in her eyes, panic, confusion, anger, fear. "Is this about punching you again?" she asks with apprehension. "Because I apologized about that and I meant it… and you pushed me that day! You pushed like you wanted me to punch you…"

"Sara, yes I did provoke you that day," I affirm.

"I still regret what I did… I'm truly sorry, I am and …"

"Sara," I call her softly, interrupting her rant. "This is not about you punching me," I assure her. "I know you are sorry, we have addressed this issue already. It isn't about that."

"Then why?"

I take a deep breath and let it out. "I care about you Sara, more than I should," I let my words sink and stare back at her. "It's a fact which we are both aware of."

She looks away briefly, her silence confirming my statement.

"It's a problem, because it affects our dynamic. We both know how important it is for us to maintain the 'shrink/patient' dynamic; for me to care about you the way I do threatens this dynamic."

"So… it's alright for me to punch you but it's not okay for you to care about me?"

"I crossed the line with you Sara on several occasions. I know you understand the importance of boundaries here. When the line is blurry, it affects the way you're approaching the therapy for one and then it affects the way I do my job. The distance has a purpose, and that purpose is objectivity; when I cross the line it gets personal, and being personal means being biased by definition," I explain.

I'm not her friend, I'm not her confident, I'm not her family. I'm her shrink, it gives me the same status as a wall, I'm just an element of decorum. I belong in my office; outside of it I don't have an existence in her life. This is how things are supposed to be. Yes I do speak, quiet original for a wall, the point of the matter is I'm not here to tell people what they need nor what they want to hear, I'm not here to care about their feelings like someone intimate to them would do.

"I cannot be personal with you because, it will inevitably render our sessions counter productive at some point. If I'm personal with you, I lose my objectivity and therefore can't help you, and there's no point in you coming here if I can't help you."

"Gee… are you listening to yourself? You make it sound like we were having an affair or as if you were coming onto me every time we're together… this is ridiculous," she stands up with irritation. "You care about me, so what?"

"From an ethical point of view, it's wrong. Again, I crossed the line…"

"Twice!" she interrupts me sharply, holding two fingers up. "You held my hand once and held me, both times I was crying myself out, emotionally shattered and on the verge of throwing myself out of a window! Don't you think there's a kind of… exception for that or something?!" she asks in disbelief. "So what if it changes the dynamic between us? Better yet, between you and me, because there is no 'us'."

She paces, rubbing her forehead. "Seriously… it's like I was on a crime scene and that I was seeing someone severely hurt and saying 'hey sorry mate, I know you're bleeding to death, but reaching out to help you will corrupt evidence and that's against protocol, so either go find help on your own or die in silence'," she must sense that I'm about to speak because she cuts me off. "Don't tell me it's not the same thing, it's exactly the same thing!"

"Sara, I'm not questioning my actions. If we turned back time and lived the same moments again my choices would be the same. Yet it doesn't change the fact that it affects our dynamic, and that's not a good thing."

"Screw it, alright? Screw the ethic and the protocol and whatever…" she says sharply. "I don't care about the standard shrink/patient dynamic, and I don't care that you crossed the line. I don't want you to pass me over like some problem you don't give a damn about. That's what number one to six did!" she speaks with agitation.

She makes a few steps back and forth then takes a deep breath to calm down and lets it out. "Look, it works, alright? And more importantly it works for me," she puts a hand over her chest. "Isn't that what matters?" she pauses. "It never occurred to you that you crossing the line might be the reason why I had put up with you for so long? You turned into a human being twice, okay, who cares? The flaws in our dynamic make it work. And out of them all, you're the first to actually make a difference for me, damn it!" she pants. "Don't throw me away just because protocol has been breached, that's stupid!"

"My main concern here is for you to be comfortable for…" I try to make my point.

"Comfortable?" she snorts. "Adam, this is therapy," she states. "Do you really think that if I wanted to be comfortable I'd be anywhere near this place? Really?" she shakes her head. "And before you dare asking the question, the answer is no" she says with a hint of exasperation.

"Honestly, you're tiring sometimes. I come here so you can push me facing issues I've been more than happy to ignore all my life; to talk about how messed up my life is and how freaking inept I am when it comes to handle it. I want to punch you most of the time – not that I'll ever do it again. And I repeat that I'm really sorry about that incident," she stresses out.

"In spite of how difficult and painful it is for me, I keep coming back and I keep talking to you. It has nothing to do with me being comfortable, and I don't care how many protocols have been breached, it works somehow, so screw the rest," she says firmly.

She's really angry perhaps to the point to hit something yet she stays in control. She sighs. "You know what? Fine, I understand your dilemma and I'll accept the fact that you can't see me because of ethical issues, even though I think that it's dumb and you're a hell of an idiot. If you tell me that this is my last session, I'll walk out of here right now and never come back; but don't even bother passing me off to someone else, because I'm telling you right now that I won't bother. I'm not going through all that crap again and getting back to square one with some stranger just because you can handle bending the rules a little bit," she declares firmly. "So what is it going to be?"

"Sit down, Sara."

"Are you sending me packing?" she asks with defy.

Obviously she won't comply unless I give her an answer. "Redirecting you to someone else has never been an incoming event. I only said that I had been _contemplating_ the idea of doing so," I clarify. "However, you've made your point. So let's take a deep breath and relax. Sit down," I repeat my earlier request. "Please," I add.

She stares at me for a minute, not sure if she can trust me, but eventually she sits on the couch again. She still sends me daggers with her eyes, obviously resenting me for thinking about redirecting her to someone else, eventually she looks away at the window behind me, like she always does when she doesn't feel like talking. I don't say anything and give her time cool off.

I wait until her breathing is more regular and her shoulders slump a bit. I have no doubt that now that she's calmer she'll understand that I didn't bring up this particular topic to upset her, but because it is a legitimate concern for me and it should be for her as well. When she sighs, I know that she has finally considered my 'dilemma' as she put it, with a clear and objective mind and also take in my decision.

"Since we're not getting a divorce, are there any other issues regarding our couple you'd like to discuss, darling? I mean, we might as well lay it all in the open while we're at it," she asks with a straight face, I'm surprised by her sudden humour and almost burst into a laughter but catch myself just in time, so I end up snorting with a small grin.

She doesn't smile but I can see that she's glad to have set me off guard. I decide to go along. "Actually, there's one little thing. You kind of hurt my feelings back there when you said that we weren't an 'us'," I feign hurt.

This time she's the one a bit unsettled but she gains her composure back immediately. "Darling, you were hysterical, I must say that for a moment there I even believed you had grown a womb, which took me aback. But I didn't mean it, it was just irritation talking," she says on an apologetic tone.

In spite of all my effort I can't help my grin getting wider, I make a small circle with my hand to invite her to make all the jokes she wants before we move on.

"I want you to know though, that I take you as you are, you and your hysteria, and I still love you buttercup," she says with a hand over her chest, managing to keep a straight face. "Last but not least I'm more than happy to assuage all your concerns, if you still have any left" she enjoys herself.

I let go and finally chuckle, which earns me a small genuine smile from her in return, the first in two months. "Done?" I ask.

She thinks about it, her eyes looking upward and her bottom lip a little protruded. "Hmm… yeah… wait… no… okay, I have mercy on you," her little grin keeps playing on her lips.

I just shake my head with a smile. I stand from my armchair and go to the kitchen side to pour myself a glass of cold milk.

"Are we okay?" she asks seriously.

I take a second to ponder my earlier decision before speaking. "The moment you feel uncomfortable…"

"You'll be the second to know, right after I do," she says firmly.

I nod. "We're good," I assure her.

She doesn't comment and sits a little more deeply in the couch. We share silence again, the levity of the moment gone. After five minutes of complete silence, she rubs her hands and sighs.

"I'm getting my gun back tonight," she announces.

After her break down, I had a talk with Grissom, without giving him the specifics I made sure that he revoked her authorisation to carry a gun under the reason that she needs to validate her target practice all over again, and even more that he made sure that this test wouldn't happen for a long while. Of course there's only so much I can do without things starting to become suspicious.

Three weeks ago Sara informed me that she would be taking the test, and it would seem that she passed.

"I'm not… scared of getting it back… I mean, I don't feel like…facing the barrel when I'm on my own," she admits. "It's just a thing with our job, to go on the field you need the gun. I haven't been on the field for two months, as you know… and… well working in the labs helps you pretend the world is a good place to live in. I mean, it's so… unreal, like you're just testing samples and making experiments… you don't see the ugly side of things," she lets out a deep breath. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm apprehensive to go back on the field and face the horrendous visions our job has to offer."

"You don't have to, if you don't want to," I simply state.

"I know… but the thing is… I love my job and I'm good at it as weird as that sound. And I know that even if it's infinitely small and lost in the doldrums of insanity, cruelty and ugliness, we do make a difference."

"How do you feel about getting back into your team?"

"Excited, I suppose," she shrugs. "I mean I'm glad to…" she takes a deep breath. She having an emotional upheaval where she almost or actually cries a bit, most likely against her will. "Fuck," she closes her eyes and pinches them as though it was effectively stopping the tears.

I let her be ready on her own time. When she has gain control of herself she takes a deep breath and speaks again. "I feel anxious… like it was my first day as a CSI, like I had to prove myself."

"Also there's the fact that I'll have to interact with Catherine, we haven't spoken ever since she called things off and we didn't part on good terms," she crosses her arms over her chest. "Then there's Greg…"

"I thought you said that the two of you saw each other everyday during his recovery and physical therapy?" I note.

"We do," she confirms. "We… it's just that we've stopped talking, we chit chat, but we don't… talk," she shrugs.

"Do you know why?"

"The accident changed something… and we're both aware of that, like we're aware of the things we should talk about but I don't think either of us is ready to put those topics in the open… well I don't want to speak for him, I know I'm not ready, so I don't talk."

She passes a hand in her hair. "The thing is that something has been broken between Catherine, Greg and I and I'm afraid that it will impact on our team, on the dynamic of the team, that would be wrong because we built this team as close as perfection as it can be and I don't want to lose that; it's one of the few things in my life that makes sense and I need that consistency to stay grounded… now more than before…" once again her emotions overwhelms her and she groans as a few tears spill again.

"Sorry about that again…" she mumbles once her sobs have subsided.

I ignore her apology and keep on tracks "Things have changed it's true, but things are constantly changing, what matters is how you want face them. The efforts will have to come from the three of you but you're in charged, you have the control, it's up to you – the three of you – whether or not to let them affect your team. You will have to redefine the lines and the rules at least until you're ready to face whatever issues are between you and solve them."

"I'm in charge," she repeats unconvinced.

"You cannot control everything Sara, but some things you can, focus on those and leave the rest be."

She nods after a while, "Do you want us to stop?" I ask more rhetorically than anything, because I think that she has reached her limit for today.

"Yes," she doesn't protest and stands up to gather her belongings.

"I still want you to check with me regularly, and if you need me I'm here at any moment," I inform her before she leaves.

"Duly noted," she replies then disappears behind my door.

Something tells me that rough times are ahead.

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**I'll try to come back with more soon. :)**

**Thank you for reading**


	2. Chapter 2

**I know, I know, i'm taking ages to update, I apologize. I'm back for good and I'm going to try to update once a week. Sorry again for the delay. Thank you very much for your reviews :)**

**Enjoy,**

**So ;)**

**Ps: Thank you** Immi** for the help and the insight.**

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**Chapter 2**

_**Sara's POV**_

I arrived at work with a knot in my stomach, but now that I am chatting with Nick and Warrick, I feel like I came back home after a long trip. A few lab techs are there as well and in a few seconds the break room turns into a gossip radio. I get to know just about everything that has happened for the past two months.

I'm laughing at something when I get a page from Grissom for a meeting in his office, I'm barely at the door when the next gossip topic comes on the table.

"So did we find out if whoever's Catherine is dating is working here?"

I stop my movement then go on in direction of Grissom's office unable to process the information.

_**Cath's POV**_

"Stop it!" I giggle as Emily is kissing my neck lightly, tickling me in the process. "Come on, Em, I'm going to be late," I laugh.

"Alright," she smiles and pulls away, not before kissing my cheek. "Call me when you're done, I'll come and pick you up," she smiles.

"Will do," I give her a sweet kiss and step out of the car.

"Have a good shift," she winks at me before driving away.

I walk to the entrance of the lab, Emily always drops me away from the a lab – at my request – it's not that I'm ashamed of her but rather that I like to have her to myself and not have my private life spread all around the lab, even though I already know that Emily's identity is one of the hot topics of the windmill.

I met Emily a little more than a month ago, an accident – literally, some crazy guy was driving like a maniac and in order to avoid a collision with him I had to swerve which in result led me to collide with Emily. It was not a great day to say the least and to make a complete wrong impression I was on my way to court and had absolutely no time to waste with an accident report so I basically send Emily packing giving her my number so we'd sort this out later.

One meeting led to another one and another one, and she was a welcomed breather in my life, the ray of light piercing through my depression and misery. I wasn't looking for anything after the Sara fiasco, but it was shockingly easy to move on which made me realize that maybe the whole affair with Sara was never healthy to begin with and was destructive more than anything.

I'm taking things slow with Emily but things are like night and day compared to what they were between Sara and me. I'm adopting a new policy about not dealing with complications, things with Em will be simple or won't be, and so far I'm glad to say they are.

_**Sara's**__**POV**_

"Welcome back," says Grissom.

"Thank you," I nod. There's a short silence, neither of us has ever been really comfortable with words, at least not with each other when it came to personal matters. "Thank you," I repeat.

He frowns but doesn't reply, catching on the fact that something has shifted in my tone. I rub my hands together nervously. "Thank you for allowing me to have some time… away. I uh… really needed it," I elaborate

"I'm your friend," he states after another silence. "And I care, even though sometimes I might… I am a bit awkward as to how to deal with it. I'm not exactly good when it comes to feelings, not that I don't have any but rather that it's easier for me to put them aside in favour of reason or logic, much less dangerous things."

"I know."

"And I've always been very protective of you…" he adds in a whisper.

"I know that too," I smile a bit. "And I really appreciate everything you're doing for me."

He acquiesces and for several seconds neither of us speaks. He's obviously trying to decide whether or not to ask his next question perhaps feeling that he's overstepping a boundary. "Are you… better?" he opts for a neutral question.

"I'm better, but I'm not fine," I answer honestly. Two months ago I hit rock bottom, I'm certainly nowhere near the surface but at least I'm trying to swim back up, that's progress. "There are a lot of things I need to sort out," I confess. "The good news is that, according to Adam, I'm getting better at discussing my issues and facing them… most of the time anyway."

"You're still seeing him?"

"Yeah, incredible but true."

"How is it going?"

"Let's just say that he knows when to push my buttons and when to kick my ass."

Grissom chuckles at this. "He's always been quite intuitive."

"I am ready to be back on the field," I assure him as if feeling what was coming.

"I trust you Sara, I trust that if indeed you didn't feel ready you would have told me," I nod in assent. "If at any point you feel that you need a break…"

"I'll come to you immediately if I think anything could affect my work."

"Good," he sighs. "You're with Nick and Greg tonight," he hands me over a pink slip. "Off you go," he winks at me, effectively putting an end to our conversation.

I take the slip and leave, I go in the break room to warn Nick and tell him to inform Greg, then I go in the locker room to enjoy a little time on my own.

I look at my watch and pick up my phone; I press one of the key for speed dial and wait for an answer.

"_Hello?_" Adam's voice is quiet as ever.

"It's Sara."

"_Your shift has started?_"

"Yes, I've just spoken to Grissom."

"_How do you feel?_"

"I'll let you know when my shift is done."

I don't add anything and just hang up, we've been having those short calls almost everyday for two months, it's not a social call just an obligation on my part in order to stay grounded. I call, Adam knows that I'm not doing anything stupid or destructive, and all is well in the world.

I briefly think that it is a bit sad that I have a shrink, _my_ shrink, on speed dial, but I don't dwell on it because it will put me in a funk. I pick my vest, kit and check one more time that I have everything then leave the locker room.

_**Cath's POV**_

"… I swear I thought I was going to die laughing so much I couldn't breathe," Warrick finishes the tale of his latest adventure with Nick. I swear once or twice a month those two decide to act like teenagers.

"You'll never cease to amaze me," I chuckle.

"You have to come with us next time."

"I might, actually."

"Oh, before I forget, do you think I can take Linds with me this week-end? We're having a video game tournament, and I need her on my team."

"It depends," I wince. I trust Warrick with Linds, it's not the question, he's like an uncle to her; he takes her out sometimes to movies or else just so I can have a little time for myself, but sometimes I have to put my foot down because, well, he spoils her.

"We'll make her homework first, I'll cook healthy meals, granted there might be ice cream involved but the rest will be healthy and green, she'll have her beauty sleep, and I promise to get her back by six on Sunday."

I stop at a red light and look at him, I'm about to protest because he took her to an amusement park two weeks ago, I'm all for her having fun but I don't want her to get too distracted from her studies, especially considering that she's been slipping a bit on that level lately.

"Oh the puppy face, really?" I sigh. "You're incorrigible," I chide him.

"Come on, Nick's nephews and nieces are going to be there, they haven't seen each other in months, please?"

Right, I'm a person of strong will but Warrick is one sneaky trickster, he always knows what angle to play when he wants something from me, like right now he pulled out the 'cute card'. Damn him.

"Fine, but I want her home by six on the dot this time," I warn him. "And I don't want her to eat sugar all week-end, you ear me?"

"Healthy stuff, I promise," he smiles brightly, happy to have won. "On the bright side you'll have quality time with whoever you're dating lately," he adds tentatively.

I should have seen it coming. He had not broached that subject once in three weeks, I thought I hadn't given anything away but obviously he was just waiting for me to say something.

"Who said anything about me dating?" I try avoidance.

"Please, Cath," he rolls his eyes. "I know your dating tokens."

"My dating tokens?" my face instantly pictures a mix of disbelief and amusement. "Right."

"You don't believe me?"

"I don't have dating tokens."

"Case in point, after Julianne fiasco you had someone, I wouldn't say it made you happy but you sure were giddy at least for a little time because it went downhill fast. You never mentioned it once which led me to think that either it was a fling or not good enough to write home about. It lasted about four maybe five months, you got really burnt though," he tilts his head. "You let me know if I've been wrong so far."

I could deny that he's right, but that would be a lie and I don't do that. I'm surprised of how accurate he is though.

"Forgetting that being observant is part of our day job, I was a gambler, reading people was essential to win," he continues with a chortle. "We've known each other for a decade now, just because you don't confide in me or put me aside of your life like you've been doing lately, doesn't mean I'm not keeping an eye on you, you know, to watch your back," he shrugs.

I make a turn and then start slowing down as we're approaching our crime scene. "Look, you know me, I've never been one to pull your teeth out about stuff like that. All I wanted to say is that it's good to see you with a genuine smile and being in a good mood, it hadn't happened in a while."

I put a hand over his before he gets out of the car. "I know I haven't been the greatest friend lately, and that I have pushed you away, but I'm grateful to have you by my side and I love you, don't ever forget it." I simply reply after a long silence.

"Of course you do, I'm irresistible," he says with a charming smirk.

I roll my eyes and lean in to kiss is cheek. "That and you're a smartass," with that I'm getting out of the car, ready to face our shift.

_**Sara's POV**_

When I arrive on the parking lot Nick and Greg are waiting for me next to our car. Nick throws me the keys and I catch them in the air.

"A gift for your return," he states happily.

I look at the keys and realize that my hand is shaking, suddenly I feel a weight on my chest. I take a deep breath in order to keep a little control over myself and throw the keys back at Nick. "Thanks, but I'll pass."

"Alright, who are you and what have you done with Sara?" he jokes.

I chuckle nervously. "The last time I drove to a crime scene, I wrecked a car and almost killed Greg, I think even him fells safer if I don't drive," I try to keep my tone light even though this has been a source of anguish for the past two months.

"Oh come on Sar… it wasn't your fault, some high idiot thought he was in a GTA video game," Nick winces.

"I know Nicky, I'm just… next time maybe," I close the topic.

We arrive on the scene before the coroners' team so we look around, we are in what used to be a factory for dummies, the building is burnt and it appears that we have a body in puzzle inside. My anxiety is slowly fading away as I'm taking my marks on the field again.

I sniff the air and wince when something even sourer than burning material invades my nostrils. "Oh come on… guys, I know we're intimate and all, but please apologize when you let a wind go," I joke.

"It wasn't me!" Nick and Greg answer in unison.

I sniff again and the foul smell is still there, the guys start sniffing around themselves. "Maybe there were products around when the fire happened…" Nick states.

We don't give it anymore thought as David and a young man I don't recognize arrive on the scene. "Evening," David salutes us. He smiles even more when he notices me. "Hey there, good to have you back."

"It's good to see you too," I wink at him and even now he still blushes.

"Guys this is Kurt, Kurt, Sara Sidle, Nick Stokes and Greg Sanders," David makes the introduction then asks us to give him our first assessments.

Kurt being under evaluation we let him work, it's slow but since we've all been there we wait patiently. "David, I think our needle is broken, I can get a read on the body liver's temp." Kurt says after five minutes.

Nick, Greg and I chuckle a bit but get serious immediately as Kurt's mistake could have been ours some years back. "Please, put him out of his misery," David pleads me in a whisper.

"Your needle is fine," I announce, kneeling in front of him. "He's a state of the art revival Joe, so he doesn't have a liver, therefore no liver temp."

Kurt looks at me with surprise then examine the burnt body in front of him again, then realisation hits him. "Great, I'm the dummy now…"

"Relax, we all had our fair share of rookie mistakes," I try to reassure him. "Learn and move on. The remains are that way," I point the direction of the dissected body.

We are trying to collect as much element to determine the origin of the fire while David and Kurt takes care of the human pieces, I can't help but still be bothered by the sour smell. I take a picture then decide to follow the scent to discover its origins.

I find myself in a room that seems to be used as a reserve of some kind, there are a dozen of plastic barrels with a danger sign on, some shelves, discarded objects that aren't out of place in a warehouse. The fire didn't reach this room, and the smell definitely comes from here.

"Do you have something?" Greg's voice startles me. "Sorry."

I take a deep breath to calm my nerves. "Something's wrong here," I state showing him the room. "There's a smell that is stronger than the one left by the fire."

"You're right…" he acquiesces, sniffing the air. "It most likely comes from the barrels."

"Nicky," I call out. I have a bad feeling about this.

"Yes?" he arrives after a moment.

"One of us has to open and find out what's inside the barrels," I simply says.

We all exchange a knowing look, obviously none of us wants to volunteer, so we raise a fist in front of us. "Rock, paper, scissor, go!" Nick chant.

Of course I lose, one scissor against two rocks. I sigh and hang my head as the other two high five with a chortle. I take a deep breath and walk further into the room. I instinctively put another pair of gloves above the one I already have on, I approach one barrel and try to loosen the lid but it doesn't work. I ask Nick for a crowbar or anything that I could use as a lever. Five minutes later I'm slowly popping up the lid of one barrel with a crowbar.

As soon as the lid is of I have movement of recoil as a horrendous smell aggresses my nostrils.

Those are definitely not dummies.

"Sar?"

"Tell David and Kurt to come back," I simply say unable to look away from the barrel.

I hear Nick walking back hurriedly into the main hall, while Greg comes next to me, he takes the crowbar from me and starts opening the barrel next to mine. The putrid smell gets stronger, quickly polluting the oxygen.

David enters the room followed by Nick and Kurt. David approaches and takes a look inside the barrels, he makes a disgusted face but immediately toughens up. Kurt however comes next to me and loses all his colours at once.

He heaves and I just have the time to press my hand against his mouth before he contaminates one of the barrel, his cheeks are blown like balloons and I shove him as fast as I can out of the room. I barely let go that he's already emptying his guts on the floor.

This shift is going to be extremely long.

_**Cath's POV**_

"Aaron can you tell us where did you come from?" I ask for the fifth time to the twenty something man in front of Warrick and me.

"Trevor's room."

"Where is it?"

"At his place," he replies with a shrug. "I love your jacket," he says with admiration. "Do you know who has one like that?"

"Aaron, where does Trevor live?" Warrick tries to keep him on track.

"It looks so soft… and it's a bit shiny…"

"Aaron!" I snap fingers in front of him. "Trevor, tell us about Trevor."

"The guy at the zoo!" he exclaims. "He had the same kind of jacket," Aaron smiles with satisfaction.

I purse my lips with frustration. We've been trying to communicate with Aaron for the past thirty minutes with no success because he is in all evidence completely high. I'd opt for bringing him in and then wait for him to come back down, but the problem is that he's covered in blood, human blood, and there are no wounds on him which would suggest that someone is dying somewhere or dead.

We've sent officers canvassing the area but until we get through to Aaron we're in essence looking for a needle in a giant haystack.

"Holy Molly… what is that?" Aaron jumps when noticing the state of his shirt.

"That's what we're trying to find out, can you tell us what happened tonight?"

"Are you seeing this?…" he starts to panic. "… my hand is like a space monkey!" he exclaims before laughing. "Trevor… the monkey… shit I lost Trevor."

Wait, what?

"Trevor's a monkey?" I ask.

"Oh yeah, he says he wanted to be a dragon and all but you should see him jump everywhere, like a ninja… monkey is the good Chinese sign for him…"

What the…

"Do you know that monkeys and spiders are different species? Isn't that funny to call a monkey, spider monkey? I always tell Aaron ride like the wind and shine like a monkey… or the other way around… cause he's a monkey and all…"

"Aaron, enough about the monkeys! Please, try to focus," my voice is laced with a bit of anger, that seems to register with Aaron who looks at me with dread.

"Tell us where you came from and how you ended up with blood all over you?"

"Your eyes are so blue… it's crazy," Aaron says with awe.

I ball my fist and bite my lips. "I'm about to punch him," I grumble to Warrick who chortles

"Oh my, where does that blood come from?"

"That's what we want to know, can you try and remember what happened today?" Warrick explains

"Your eyes are green man… does it feel weird?" Aaron gets sidetracked again. "You know what's weird?" he pauses. "Nobody looks at monkey's eyes… I feel awesome… I don't think that blood is mine…"

"Can you try and tell us whose is it?" I ask calmly but once again he seems distracted.

"That colour is intense, man," Aaron stares at his shirt. "So hot…"

"Aaron, the blood," I prompt.

"Oh yeah… I was so hot…" he rolls his eyes. "You are hot… you're so pretty," he sends me a droopy smile. "… I think I was supposed to do something…" he muses.

Warrick sighs and passes a hand over his face, Aaron is literally driving us crazy.

"My fingers are tingly…" he laughs. "Oh you guys will never believe what I saw earlier…" Aaron states enthusiastically. Warrick and I silently hold our breath, hoping that we'll finally get the first information of our night. "A monkey!"

Please, somebody give the strength not to punch him…

"A giant monkey, well not giant but big, if it was giant it would be like Kong… people always think the monkey is name King Kong, but they're wrong it's just Kong…" Aaron starts ranting. "He looked like he had a romp in with Godzilla, though in my opinion Kong is stronger, look at his arms I mean… your jacket is so shiny, I love it…"

"Wait, wait… where did you see the monkey tonight?" I briefly wonder if Warrick has lost it as well, but don't say anything.

"On the street, there," he makes a move with his hand in no direction.

"Could you show us?"

Aaron is looking at the floor, I'm not even certain that he heard my question. "Monkey feet, that would be awesome…"

Boy, this night is going to be long.

_**Sara's POV**_

"I'm glad that the shift has come to an end," Nick states with an emotionless voice.

"Yeah, me too," I reply in a whisper. I already took three showers but I definitely plan on taking more, because I can still smell the horrendous smell of the warehouse.

"You're alright?" Nick's voice seems suddenly far away. "Sar?"

When I look at him I'm surprised at the fact that he's right at my side. "Yeah," I nod.

"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow then, drive safe."

"You too."

He leaves the locker room and I open my locker, when I reach for my watch my hand starts to shake again. I stare at it wishing for the tremor to stop. I hear the door of the locker room opening again.

"I forgot something," Nick announces. He comes next to me and waits for me to look at him, then he leans in and kisses my cheek affectionately. "Welcome back," he winks at me and I grin shyly. He walks out again but this time it's for good.

I focus on my hand again, close my fist and then open it, the tremors subside a bit so I start gathering my belongings.

"Yeah… I swear it was surreal, I'll tell you all about it…" Catherine's voice reaches my ears. "I'll be there in ten…" she chuckles. "Can't wait… see you soon."

I close my eyes in order to steady myself, I can't ignore her now that would be rude. If I'm honest I was glad not to have crossed paths with her all night, but it's not like I had had a lucky shift so far so meeting her just when I'm about to leave fits with the whole night. I put my head out of my locker and look at Catherine. "Hey," I grin awkwardly.

She stops on her tracks and looks at me with surprise, her smile fades away. She turns to her locker and opens it. "Hey," she eventually replies.

_**Cath's POV**_

"How… how are you?" Sara asks tentatively.

So far I was having a weird but rather funny shift. As it turned out Warrick and I have succeeded to decipher Aaron's speech. In the end we had to follow the monkey.

He wasn't lying about the giant monkey, well it was someone in a monkey suit. The monkey, a student in medicine had decided to pull a prank which involved blood, he had taken pouches that were about to go to waste because out of date for use – much like Grissom gets his blood for experiments. Our monkey fell and the pouches burst, Aaron helped him and found himself covered with blood. It took us almost three hours to make head and tail of it all but we did it, which is quite the achievement considering that we only had Aaron as a guide.

I spent the rest of the shift taking statement and laughing with Warrick, thinking about Aaron and his uncanny obsession with monkeys.

My good mood all but vanished in the span of two seconds though. I found myself staring at Sara when I walked in the locker room. I hadn't seen her in two months, hadn't heard about her in two months, I felt like receiving a punch in the guts but I got over it quickly.

I slam the door of my locker and look at her. "Listen, I'm saying this without animosity. We work together, we talk about work and that's it. No idle chit chat, or anything else, that's how I want things to be," I declare calmly.

She nods. "Sure, I understand."

"Thanks, you have a good day," I add before leaving the locker room.

_**Sara's POV**_

I watch the door of the locker room closing up on me.

Catherine basically drew the line between us. I can't blame her, and honestly I was almost expecting a fight, but instead of that she was calm, detached and clear from the start.

The last time we spoke she broke up with me, after that I never called her back or gave her a sign of life for that matter, I all but dropped off the surface of the planet as far as she's concerned. I wasn't expecting her to welcome me with open arms, so I'd say that it didn't go that bad all things considered.

I grab my backpack and get out as well, more than ready to go home. Something I don't understand happens though, when I'm in my car I have to stop almost immediately after I turned on the ignition. My hands are shaking so bad that I feel the tremors all over, and it's like there was a weight on my chest.

I feel arms around my chest, constricting my airways, every stressful moment of the day comes back to me, images of rotting body parts in barrels full of acid flash behind my eyelids and I have to make myself violence not to be sick.

I had rested my head against the steering wheel but I force myself to sit up to have a better chance at breathing. Once I have some sort of control over my breathing I start the car again, just as I am about to make a turn I see Catherine kissing another woman against a car in the far corner of the street parallel to the lab.

_**Adam's POV**_

I open the door of my office and find a very distraught Sara on the threshold.

"I can't stop shaking… and…" she doesn't finish her sentence but I know she's referring to fact that she's crying. "Please… make it stop," she begs urgently.

I let her in, I can only guess that her first shift back wasn't as smooth as she had hoped it would be. She sits down, shaking like a leaf and I take place in my chair ready to try and channel a bit of her anxiety.

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**I'll come back with more next week.**

**Thanks for reading**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi everyone, thank you for your very kind reviews. Here's the new chap.  
**

**Enjoy,**

**So ;)**

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**Chapter 3**

_Cath's POV_

I change my position on the couch for the twentieth time, I'm still not comfortable so I stand up and start pacing slowly around the room. I stop in front of the large library and brush the frame with my fingertips, I look at the books, focus on the way they are ordered then focus on the frame again. "And here I thought I was a freak with my library," I mutter to myself

I turn around and sigh "I don't know why I'm here," I say aloud to no one in particular.

I walk to the other side of the room open a cupboard and take two mugs out, I open the fridge, pour apple juice in one mug and milk in the other one, close the fridge then reach for a small pot on the counter uncap it and put a pinch of cinnamon in both mugs. I use a spoon to stir the milk first, lick it and then stir the apple juice, I clean the spoon on the sink, wash my hands and make sure that everything is where is should be.

I grab both mugs, go over to the figure who's sitting cross-legged in a big armchair and hold the mug filled with cold milk at their eye level. They cut their long observation of a Rubik's cube and take the offered mug.

"Just the way you like it," I state, after one sip I earn a silent but grateful smile. "You're welcome," I reply before going back onto the couch. I spend the next three minutes watching my companion staring at his cube, turning it in every sense and taking sip out of my mug.

"I don't know why I'm here," I repeat. "Not that you could actually provide an answer to that query," I shrug. "And even if you had the answer you wouldn't give it to me because we both know that it's all about figuring things out by myself with you, right?"

It takes twenty seconds for the cube to be completed and put aside, sign that I am now the center of the attention.

"I'd say I'm impressed but I'm down to six seconds on a good day," I smirk. Eyes are narrowed and lips are pinched. "Oh my, was that a jealous stare?" I put a hand over my chest. "Adam, you're starting to act like a real human, _now_ I'm impressed," I pout with admiration then shake myself a bit. "Oooh it actually gave me chills."

Adam pushes is tongue against one of his cheeks with an expression that could actually be translated by 'bite me', that only served to make me chuckle. "Hey now, the least I can do is having a little fun," I shrug. "Not to mention the fact that it's the first time that I'm here in over two months so you are obligated to cut me some slack," I finish with a shit eating grin.

"Now, fun time's over, let's get back to business," I become serious again. "Why am I here? Good question. It's not like I missed you, as a matter of fact I don't think anyone in their right mind would miss a shrink, no offence."

I had no intention to come here, honestly I just needed some air, and this where I ended up. "I saw Sara, I think that's where I should begin."

I pause, dwelling on that thought for a moment and snicker. "Isn't it always where it begins? Ironic, uh?"

Thinking about it, the only reason why I know Adam in a first place is because things were not going well with Sara. "I saw Sara and that made me angry. I'm not bothered by the fact that it made me angry," I immediately add. "I'm impulsive… no, impulsive is not the right word."

Adam doesn't say anything and just waits for me to find my word. "I'm…emotional?" I wince not really liking the term but realize that I don't have a better word for it. "I think that's the right term. I'm emotional in so far as my emotions have always been my primary drive. It's a quality because it allows me to be more in tune with people, but it's also a default because when I'm driven by intense emotions I become impulsive."

I take another sip of juice. "The thing is that there are times when you have the right to feel the way you do and to have… the irrational reaction that comes with it. That wasn't clear, was it?"

I sigh trying to think about a way to illustrate my point. It doesn't take me long as one moment in my life comes clearly in mind. "I had the right to feel enraged beyond reason against that pink-haired cow that almost killed my daughter, just like I had the right have murderous intents toward her. This is an unwritten law of Mother Nature, you mess with the cub, you prepare to get killed by mama," I say firmly.

I take a deep breath to calm down and get my mind back on track. "It's the same with Sara, I had the right to be angry at her. I mean…" I trail off.

I've had time to deal with this, time to accept it – though if I'm honest the pill is still firmly lodged in my throat.

"The last time we spoke, I broke things off with her. There were tears, screams a lot of raw feelings and pain, and… and she was begging me not end things, she was telling me that she loved me, and…" I stop feeling unwanted tears prickling my eyes.

"She left my house and then she… vanished, poof," I snap my fingers. "Not a word, not a phone call, not a text message, not a letter, nothing, two months and not a single sign of life. She literally fell out the face of the Earth for two months."

The silence lasts a few moments. "Who does that?" two months and I still can't find the answer to that question. "Yes, I broke it off, and I wasn't expecting her to grovel or anything, but if her pleads were real she'd have make an effort to reach out."

Adam stares at me and I know exactly what he's about to say. "Don't look at me like that, I wasn't petty about it, I bit my pride and tried to reach out, if not to get back with her at the very least to sort things out in order to do some damage control, you know salvaging our friendship."

I'm not just saying this, I did actually reach out. It's funny how you're always ready to crawl and put yourself down for the relationships that hurt you the most, well not so funny.

I called but never got any answer, I went to her place and never seen even a hint of her being around, she could have been dead for all I knew. "I reach out by myself, then I even resort to have answers from someone else. Grissom's answers about her whereabouts were non-committal, the rumours had it that she was working on the day shift in the labs, I had double shifts and I never seen her once, the boys say they had glimpses of her and even exchanged two words but I didn't. She was obviously good at hiding from me, good at hiding period."

I snort and stand up, pacing again. "After two months she reappears out of thin air and has the gall to act like everything was normal," I chuckle bitterly. "Someone treats you with that little regard when you share a history, they deserve your anger. Again, I'm not bothered by the fact that I'm angry at her, because my anger is not misplaced, my anger is to be expected and it is justified."

I walk toward Bogus and punch it in order to evacuate some of my frustration. "Then why am I here?" I anticipate Adam's question.

I pace again back and forth I front of the couch, then abruptly stop. "I'm here because of you."

There I think I've finally put the finger on what brought me here. Adam is at the core of my problem. "I scorch. That's what I do when I'm angry, I have the whole force field around me warning you that I'm angry and therefore best not to fuck around with me. People hide from me when I'm angry, literally, and they warn each other, like villagers running away from a dragon," I laugh a bit.

"I saw Sara and I was beyond angry. Do you know what I did?" I ask rhetorically. "Nothing, I was calm as ever, as if I didn't care. I quietly told her that I didn't want any interaction other than work related ones with her, waited for her assent, thanked her, wished her a good day and left. I was pissed beyond words and that's what I did. I was so angry that I was numb. _That_ bothers me."

I growl. "This isn't me, this isn't how I work. Before this whole mess, I had my marks. Things were bad but I knew where I stood and I could handle it was like… it was like her and I were trying to dance tango on the 5th of Beethoven, we fought a lot because we were blaming one another for not succeeding to the task never minding the fact that it was impossible to begin with. It was absurd to the rest of the world but somehow it made sense for us, it was our dynamic and we knew how to make it work."

"Then we came here and… our dynamic has been blown to pieces, and now I don't even know how I work, and I know even less how things work with Sara. I blame you for all this, I blame you because all my marks are gone, I feel robbed… no… I feel stripped," I say vehemently.

I just catch up on something and chuckle. "There's a great joke there, I used to be a stripper now I feel stripped with my clothes on… I'm crap at jokes but I know there's a good one there, shame it's wasted since you won't make it."

I bury my face in my hands and sigh deeply. "Sure, I made progress, I told her immediately where the limits were, and I didn't lose my temper… but I just don't know that brand new me…"

I take my mug and finish my juice. "I know it's ridiculous, because you listen to me and you think that I'd rather be irrationally angry than mature and calm… all I'm saying is…" I sigh. "I don't know, I need marks… and I don't have any now so… I guess you and I are going to go at it for another round, even though I hate to admit it."

I inspire deeply, hold my breath and let it go. "I better get going, I promise Em we'd be having lunch together," I mention. "This was… a good talk though I only feel slightly relieved but I think it was constructive."

I stand up and go clean my mug, once again I make sure everything is in order, because Adam can be uptight about all that. When I'm done I pick up my jacket from the couch and put it on. "I guess I'll see you soon, then," I nod in his direction, just when I'm about to leave I turn to him again. "Oh yeah, I'll bring you a cube with a maze pattern on it, if you actually get better with the normal one that is," I smirk.

Acting completely out of character Adam sticks his tongue at me which makes me laugh, I think the only reason I put up with Adam is because he doesn't fit the image I have of a shrink, and sometimes he doesn't mind being childish.

This was as draining as I remember it to be, but honestly I think I unconsciously made the right choice by coming here. I don't need any complications and if I don't want to let things eat at me then Adam is the right option to pick.

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**I know it's short, but I'll come back with more next week.**

**Thanks for reading.  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi everybody, thank you for your very kind reviews. Here's the new chapter (notice how I'm being regular for posting :P)**

**Enjoy,**

**So ;)**

**Ps: Thanks** Immi** for helping me to see the path**

Ellie**, j'ai été très touchée en te lisant, avec un peu de chance je ne te laisserai pas sur ta faim avec cette suite. ;) (si jamais tu veux plus de lecture j'ai des exclus en français)**

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**Chapter 4**

_Adam's POV_

Sara rubs her eyes. "It keeps happening," she states with a sniff. "One second everything is fine, the next I'm either on the verge of crying or suffocating."

She pushes the bottom of her palms into her eyes. "I can go days without a single… I'll call it a crisis, I can go days without any and then it'll happen, without warning too."

"Is it always during work?" I query.

"No," she emphases her answer with a shake of her head. "That's the most confusing, because with work, it could be because I feel like I had to prove myself all over again or just the daily horror. The thing is even when I'm working in the labs it can happen."

Sara has been back at work for three months, more than once she came to my office after her shift in state of distress, shaking, crying, difficulties to breathe. Generally after two minutes in my office she manages to get everything under control, but since she's being reluctant to talk the problem is always only temporarily solved.

"Well, the work place is a haven of stress, work, dead bodies, people who lost sight of rationality or limits, sensitive cases, Catherine… the main problem being that I don't handle that stress as well as I used to."

"Your interaction with Catherine puts you under stress?"

"We don't have that much interaction, in fact we don't have any interaction unless we're working on a case together. She requested things to be that way and I respect that. I mean with everything that happened I wasn't in the bargaining position."

"Does it bother you?"

"I think I'd rather have her mad at me than indifferent. I think indifference is worse than any positive or negative emotion."

"How so?"

"I only rate higher than a plant because I have the ability to speak," she deadpans. "Don't get me wrong I don't like having her being mad at me, but… I don't know, at least it makes me feel more like an equal," she frowns.

"I think my main issue is the fact that I never had to deal with this side of Catherine, usually when things are bad there are tension and arguments even when we play the ignoring game. The funny part is that even when it's bad there are moments of truce with us talking or joking around. Right now it's something completely different, she doesn't ignore me, but she addresses to me without any emotion and when she said no interaction except for work she meant it."

She marks a pause, reflecting on what she has just said and her left leg starts shaking uncontrollably. "I don't think it's a stress factor, it's just a new dynamic that I don't like and it takes time to get used to it."

She starts biting her nails, she stops as soon as she realizes what she's doing. "Catherine is in the work context, and the work context is subject to stress, I don't enjoy the crises but I can rationalize them when they are in that context."

There's a long silence, she loses herself in her thoughts and I just wait for her to be back in the room with me. "Here's the thing that bothers me the most, I have crises outside of work. It's not just outside of work it happens when I'm in my safe places."

Without any warning she becomes emotional, I know she's on the verge of crying because she takes her hand to her eyes in order to physically restrain her tears. She takes a few cleansing breaths, stands up get a bottle of water in the fridge then comes back on the couch.

"It happens when…" she gets emotional again, this time she stands up and goes to give a few punches to Bogus. "Fuck!" she curses herself aloud. Five more minutes of silent pacing are necessary before she sits down again.

"Last week I was talking to Sidney, my twin brother, I hung up the phone and five minutes later I couldn't breathe. Another time I was having diner with Greg and his family, everything went fine then I started to shake for no reasons. Those are not stressful contexts, they are the places where I feel safe, so if I have crises when in those contexts I feel pretty much screwed."

"How are things with Greg?"

"Why are you asking?" she frowns.

"Because I can."

"They are alright, I guess," she shrugs but I know she's holding back. She has a brief debate as to whether or not she should continue, then sighs. "We don't… really talk," she winces. "We do talk but not about important things, it's like we were making a conscious effort to keep our conversations light."

"Light?"

"Yeah… we talk about his physical therapy, we talk about family recipes, we talk about video games, we talk about work… we talk about everything and nothing, but… it always feels like it's about nothing."

"Why the avoidance?" She stares at me blankly. "You say that the two of you are making a conscious effort to keep the conversations light, why?" I reformulate.

"I said that it was how it felt like," she bypasses the question.

"Do you want to talk about things that matters with him?"

"Of course I do."

"Have you tried?"

There's a long pause. "I… things are still a bit awkward."

"So you haven't tried," I state.

"It's complicated."

"Why?"

"You're starting to piss me off," she declares out of the blue, reading between the lines I know it's her way to warn me that she's moments away from shutting herself down.

"Do you have a trust issue with Greg?"

"No."

"But you won't talk to him."

She simply looks away, this time I know that the topic is now closed as far as she's concerned, should I continue my line of questioning she'll just ignore me until I move on to something else.

"You don't want to talk about it."

"I'm glad you picked up on that," she spits bitterly.

"There aren't many things you're willing to talk about."

She glares at me. "That sounded dangerously close to a reproach."

"It's a simple statement. You know I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

"I don't have a problem with Greg."

She assumes her 'silent treatment position', this time I know that she won't say anything more today, so our session is over. This has been going on for months, we see the head of an issue, we hit a wall and she shuts down

I know what has been eating at her for so long. I've always known, she talked about it once, when everything was fresh and she has always refused to even brush the subject since. In fact she has spent all her energy denying the existence of her issue, she has done it for so long and so well that it is impossible for her to see the connections or to make any progress for that matter because everything that is happening now all boils down to that issue, that issue is the core of everything and until she acknowledges it again we will be at a stand still.

My main concern right now is that I know for a fact that she will snap soon, and considering her state of mind I'm expecting the worse.

Once again I'm starting to wonder whether or not it was a good idea for me to keep seeing her as a patient, despite her assurance that she didn't have a problem with me.

xxxxx

"It was a smell that set it off," Sara states out of the blue after thirty minutes of silence. "I was looking at pictures from a scene and a smell filled my nostrils, it made me sick to my stomach and I had to get outside in order to breathe properly."

"Was it a chemical smell?"

"Hmm no… it wasn't something strong… it was subtle, barely there, and sweet but it made me sick."

"Could you describe it?"

She frowns as she searches her memory. "It was a mix between raspberry and vanilla I guess."

"Had you ever smelled it before?"

"Well it triggered a crisis so I guess I must have, but maybe it's linked to something bad," she shrugs.

"Did it remind you of something?"

"Honestly it just made me sick, and I was too busy trying to breathe again to bother thinking about anything else."

She lets out a deep sigh. "The thing is, and I've realized that recently, there's a delay between the trigger and my crises. This time it was a smell, another time was visions of a crime scene… if it doesn't happen at work I think it's something that was said or something that happened. The fact is that I don't pick up on it right away, it's like a time bombe, something set it off but I don't get the crisis immediately."

She rubs her eyes, tiredness disturbs her features, I don't think she's sleeping a lot. She had trouble before getting back into her team but the fact that she's wearing her heart up her sleeves all the time and has regular emotional upheavals is keeping her away from peaceful rest.

"You know those scenes in horror movies or thrillers with ominously deep sounds as if to warn the audience that something is off?" she asks but doesn't wait for an answer or a sign from me to continue. "Something happens, everything seems normal but I have the nagging feeling that something is off, I can't pinpoint what is off or why I have this feeling but it's there; that feeling subsides or I just don't pay attention to it anymore, then minutes or hours after my brain catches up with it and I find myself struggling to remember how to breathe."

She looks away, then passes a hand in her hair. "I have pieces of a puzzle but I can't tell if they belong to the same set or where they fit," she pests.

"If you think about the smell you've described what words come to you?"

Her head snaps in my direction and she looks at me with confusion. "Did you listen to me?" her question is rhetorical so I don't reply. "Last week you were on my case about me not talking, now that I do you ignore everything and focus on some insignificant detail?" she pinches the bridge of her nose and sigh with exasperation.

"Can you answer my question?"

She purses her lips not to lose her temper then exhales loudly. "Soft."

"Any others?"

"Small… candy… home…skin…smooth… hair…soap…I don't know," she states randomly without giving too much thought to it.

"Can you link that smell to someone?"

She's taken aback by my question, suddenly she seems at lost. She stutters several times and shakes her head with her eyes closed. "I don't…"

She opens and closes her mouth several times, she's unconsciously clenching her fists. "I don't feel well," she announces.

"Are you experiencing the smell right now?"

"Stop, stop it… please."

"Alright, try to breathe in deeply, in and out."

She's heaving and in spite of her attempts she can't get her breathing under control. She buries her face in he hands for several seconds, then passes them in her hair. "Can you open the window please?" she pants.

I do as asked and patiently wait for her crisis to be over.

It takes a while but she does manage to calm down, she's covering her eyes with one hand which leads me to think that she was on the verge of crying.

"I want you to start a journal," I declare calmly.

She looks at me again her expression tells me that she doesn't understand my line of thought. "I want you to file your crises. Every time you have a crisis I want you to write it down, what you were doing before it happened, when you had the feeling that something was off, what sets you off, how the crisis manifested itself, everything; be as precise and detail as you can."

I don't need to ask to know that she doesn't like the idea, but I don't see many options to get her to face her issue. "If you want to know where and how the pieces fit together, you need to see the whole picture."

"Maybe seeing the whole picture is not a good idea. Maybe those crises are warnings for me not to see the big picture," her words are pouring with dread.

"There's only one way to move forward, Sara. You know that."

She nods silently in defeat. I don't ask any more questions and let her have a quiet moment, I think she gave me everything she could for today.

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**I shall be back with more next week.**

**Thanks for reading**


	5. Chapter 5

**Howdy everyone, thanks for your kind reviews. Here's the new chap.**

**Enjoy,**

**So ;)**

**Ps: Thank you **Immi** for helping me sorting my ideas**

Ellie**, ah là là... ta perspicacité te perdra très chère... mais je n'en dirai pas plus. Pour le Graal, il faudra patienter, le site a un problème pour le moment mais normalement ce sera réglé la semaine prochaine (parole de la webmaster)**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

"Catherine?"

I stir, opening my eyes slowly. I'm slightly disoriented at first but then realize that I've fallen asleep against Emily.

"Hey sleepyhead," she kisses my forehead.

I sigh tiredly. "Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't realise I was that tired."

This is the first evening I get to spend with Emily in two weeks, we were both swamped at work and I wanted to spend the little time I had with Lindsey. She came to pick me up at work twice but save for those rides home and two breakfasts we didn't really have any time for one another.

I don't think I mind those little breaks in our relationship, I like that we both have our own things, I like that we're not attached by the hips. Don't get me wrong I love spending time with her, but I like having a little space as well, and more importantly I like that she's not demanding on that level.

She came to my place and cooked for me, then she wanted to watch a movie. I think I fell asleep halfway through it, not that it was bad but I was sleep deprived, even if I'm used to it, I do need to recharge my batteries every now and then.

"It's alright," she smiles softly at me and delivers a tender kiss on my lips. "Do you want some warm milk?"

"Sure, why not."

She stands and goes to the kitchen, I use a minute or two to wake up a bit before joining her. I sit on the other side of the island and prop my left hand to rest my head on it. I observe Emily moving around my kitchen quietly. I can feel myself grinning, glad that she's at ease and finds everything almost instantly. We're building intimacy, slowly but surely.

She decided to make hot cocoa instead of plain milk and she asks me if I have a specific envy regarding our next date. We wonder about the movies in theatre or concerts of people we like. The conversation is quiet but entertaining, one thing I've noticed is that Emily is able to make me laugh easily. It's not just because we're still in the 'honeymoon' phase of our relationship, she's genuinely funny and witty.

I yawn so she takes our mugs and start cleaning up the kitchen. I realize that she's about to leave and I don't like the idea because I'm having a good time. I walk behind her and circle her waist with my arms.

"I don't want you to go," I kiss her shoulder. "Stay the night?"

We haven't spent a night together, not at my house anyway. I slept at her place a couple of times but that's about it. We have yet to be intimate, I'm the one setting the pace and if I don't mind flirting with her heavily I was not ready to give more. I think that I really need things to go slow and to build something before taking that step for a change.

She turns around in my arms, smiling. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I really don't want you to go, plus you make a comfy pillow."

She chuckles and kisses me. "With pleasure then."

I take her hand and guide us further into the house so we can prepare for the night.

xxxxx

I enter the locker room for the second time of the evening, looking for Warrick. I don't see anyone but just before leaving I hear a whimper. I turn around trying to find the source of it.

"Calm down… calm down…" in spite of the tremolo and low tone I recognise Sara's voice. "Breathe for fuck sake…"

I stay next to the door feeling conflicted about what to do. A part of me wants to go and see if she's alright, but another doesn't want to get involved, first because I've decided to stay away and then because I know Sara enough to know that me stepping in might lead to a fight.

There's another whimper, it sounds like she's crying. "Get it together come on… it's okay…" she breathes in and out loudly and slowly. "Fuck…" she sniffs. "It's okay… I'm okay…"

I turn away and just leave the locker room, leaving her to her turmoil. Every step leading me away from the locker room makes me feel nauseous, but then I shut down the incoming feeling of guilt, refusing to berate myself for walking away.

We're not friends and I've set the limits, so that's that.

…Right, because friendship and being a descent human being have to mesh.

"Fuck," I curse under my breath. "That was a crappy move Willows."

xxxxx

"Catherine, you have a case, take Nick and Sara with you," Grissom informs me, handing me a pink slip of paper.

Great. Either I consider that the universe is giving me a second chance or this is instant karma, in any case it promises to be one long shift.

I find Nick first and tell him to wait by the car, then I look for Sara and find her in the break room, alone. "I have a suspicious circ, you're with me," I declare.

"Okay," she simply replies before walking to the door.

"Wait," I step in front of her. There's a distance between us, we are largely respecting each other's personal space. There's a long pause, during which I'm trying to think about what to say. I don't want to say that I walked in on her in the locker room and I don't want her to think that things have somehow changed. "Are you alright?" I think I can't be more neutral than that.

She frowns slightly, taken aback by my question. "Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," her voice is firmer than the first time.

"Are you… okay to go on the field?"

"Is there a problem?" there's not animosity in her voice but I know that she's irritated at my line of questioning.

"No," I clear my throat. "Look if you don't feel good you can stay here."

She stares at me a few seconds and sighs. "I've just told you that I was alright, now if you don't want me in your team tonight, I don't have a problem whatsoever to be assigned with someone else."

"That's not…" I stop myself and decide to drop the subject. "Nevermind, forget I asked. Let's go."

I turn around and head out. I don't want to fight with her, I've managed not to ever since she came back and I intend to keep things that way. I've put my anger and everything involving her aside, of course turning away from the problem doesn't solve it, but it works for me just fine so I'm not going to stray from that path.

At least now I don't have to feel guilty anymore about walking out on her earlier.

xxxxx

"Hey Cath, is Sara with you?" Nick asks.

Our case is looking like a B&E, somewhere along the way the intruder found himself dead in the hall. The owner said that he was in his study room when he heard loud noises, the intruder was already dead when he found him though.

I've been focusing on finding how our intruder got in and what he did, Nick was out following the traces and interrogating people, Sara was on the ground level where the body was.

"Nope. I haven't seen her ever since we split."

"That's weird," he states with a frown.

"What is it?"

"I haven't seen her downstairs. And the officer at the entrance assured me that he hasn't seen her go."

I bag the evidence I was holding, put it safely in my kit then grab my phone. I place the call and wait for an answer. It rings five times before putting me through the voicemail. "I got her voicemail," I inform Nick.

"Call again," he orders gently.

I push the call back button, Nick frowns and walks back into the corridor, after a few seconds he motions for me to come closer with his hand.

It's hard to distinguish but the sound of a cell phone ringing is muffled somewhere downstairs. I hang up and call again as Nick and I get down trying to find the origin of the sound.

Once we reach the ground floor we orient ourselves as much as possible, then halfway into the living room we see light grey footprints next to which are evidence markers. The foot prints come from somewhere, I guess Sara was trying to find their origins.

I can feel adrenaline rushing through my veins the closer we're getting to the sound. At best it's nothing, Sara lost her cell phone and is working somewhere too caught up in her world to notice anything else, or something is truly wrong and unless she has suddenly turned deaf I can't think of a good reason why she wouldn't answer her phone.

We're facing a closed door, instinctively Nick unfastens his gun from his belt holster, I do the same, putting my phone back in my pocket.

"Sar?" Nick calls, but we don't get any reply.

Nick and I put ourselves on each side of the door frame, Nick pulls his gun out and takes off the safety, I mimic him inwardly praying that we won't have to fire. I nod slowly to Nick, silently counting to three, then I turn the knob of the door and push it open.

We enter in what appears to be a library, Nick goes in first and moves to the side of a bookcase pointing his weapon ahead of him. He slowly breathes out and makes a move from his head to tell me to join him. We're facing another door, the only signs that Sara was here are the evidence markers on the floor, the footprints seem darker than in the living room.

Once again I countdown to three before opening the door; Nick steps in quietly. "Sara," he mutters. He puts his gun back into its case and rushes in. Sara is lying down, unconscious. "Call an ambulance."

I approach, watching Nick checking for a pulse. When I radio in a request for an ambulance, I hear him calling her name while he's slapping her cheek gently to wake her up.

xxxxx

I'm trying to contain my anger, I'm pissed at Sara. After being checked by the paramedic she has a light concussion, apparently she hit something when she passed out.

Yes, she passed out.

I was expecting her to tell us that someone surprised her, but nope, she was studying the footprints, felt lightheaded and passed out.

Don't get me wrong, I'm glad she wasn't attacked but I'm mad at her, because I asked her if she was alright, she said she was, yet she passed out at a scene no less.

The medics prepare to leave after patching Sara up, she has a bruised bump on her forehead complemented by a cut. They don't think she needs to go to the hospital just to take it easy and alert someone should she feel persistent dizziness or anything unusual.

"I am pissed right now," I declare with an even voice. She's sitting on the passenger seat of our car, Nick is leaning against the car next to her and I'm standing in front of her, trying not to pace. "I asked you if you were alright and you said you were. That was a hell of a bad judgement call, that was unprofessional," my tone is sharp, but my voice is poised.

"I don't know what happened…" she mutters with a wince when she moves the ice pack she's holding against her head. "I was fine."

"Yeah, that's why you passed out."

"You gave us a hell of a scare too," Nick berates her a bit.

"You know, I could put a blame on your personal file for taking inconsiderate risks, because when you go on the field while knowing that you're not fine it's a proof of carelessness. What if something went wrong? If the perp had been there? What if… damn it you know better than that and…"

She suddenly starts to giggle. "There's nothing funny, Sara," I reprimand her which only serves to makes her giggle more. "Stop that, you made a rookie mistakes and…"

She makes frowns with a pout, making a funny face. "I can make an angry face too," she speaks with a weird voice.

"Are you taking the piss at me right now?"

She laughs not looking at me. "My hand is cold," her attention switches suddenly.

I'm about to explode when something hits me. "I think she's high," Nick voices my thought.

"Did they give her something?"

"I'm not high, I'm Sara," Sara guffaws at her own joke.

"Nope," Nick frowns.

"Did she take anything?"

"No, come on this is Sara she wouldn't take anything that could impair her."

Nick has a point, Sara would rather come sick than take anything during the shift. "Well she's high Nicky."

"You think she could have inhaled something?"

"I didn't smell anything odd in the room," I sigh and pass a hand in my hair. "Oh this night is just…" I'm at loss for words so much the situation is unreal.

"Let's get her back to the lab, the owner of the house…" I snap my fingers not finding the name I'm looking for.

"Zack Jamison, he's at the lab for interrogation."

"Well, we need to find out if he's cooking stuff in his house, and our DB might go from thief to client of his."

Nick pushes Sara in the car, then he gets back in the house to get our kits, I for myself place a call to make sure they don't let our suspect go.

My attention is brought back to Sara when red and blue lights start flashing form the top of our car. Sara's inside the car touching everything.

"Brilliant," I mutter. I walk to the car, I try to open the door but it turns out to be locked. My first reflex is to feel my pockets for the keys but I quickly remember that Nick was the one to drive. I tap gently on the window to get Sara's attention. "Open the door Sara."

Sara looks at me smiles and knocks on the window in return like it was a game before playing with the radio, she turns it on and off in rhythm with the music, her laughter lets me know that she's enjoying this greatly.

"What's going on?" Nick asks when he comes back with our kits.

"Sara locked herself in and…" I don't need to finish my sentences because Sara puts her face against the window making a piggy nose then blowing against the glass to complete her funny face.

Nick laughs lightly at Sara's antics, I can't help joining in when Sara makes another funny face against the glass, I must admit that seeing Sara regressing so fast has something endearing. "Just give me the keys Nicky."

I hold my hand up but several seconds tick by without anything happening. I look at Nick with a questioning frown. "Nick?"

"I don't have the keys," he states.

"Nick, tell me you didn't lose them again."

"I didn't."

"Then where are they?" he purses his lips and motions the car with his chin. I look and see Sara making the keys turning around her finger using the ring of the keychain, her tongue is sticking out as if she was in deep concentration. "You gave her the keys? She's high and you gave her the keys? What is wrong with you?!"

"I gave them five minutes after we got here, she wanted gums and I didn't have any left on me, I gave her the keys so she could take some from the glove box, I didn't know she'd be high as a kite by the time we had to use the car again," he defends himself.

I close my eyes, and pinch the bridge of my nose, taking a deep breath to calm myself. "Now it's clear, this is Karma," I mumble.

This night is going to be a challenge.

xxxxx

After twenty minutes of negotiations we managed to have Sara's attention long enough for her to open the car. We put the blue and red lights on so Sara would be quiet in the car it worked for ten minutes but then lucky us she was enjoying the street lights enough not to fidget too much.

Since she now acts like a five year old I put Nicky on baby-sitting duty, for my part I'm marching to the interrogation room expecting quick answers from Jamison and with Sara's behaviour I'm very short tempered so he better not mess around.

I enter the interrogation room without so much as a knock, Jamison is sitting at the table, slumped on the chair, he seems relieved to see me. I nod at the officer in the room and sit in front of Jamison.

"Miss Willows, they wouldn't let me go and I have already told your people everything."

"You told them about the meth you're cooking?" I choose the blunt approach.

"What?" he looks at me with big eyes of surprise. "I…I… I don't cook drugs!"

I ignore his protest and keep my line of questioning. "I have a team still at your house as we speak, it's just a matter of time before they find something. Now you have a choice to make, either you tell me what's going on and where to look, in that case I'll make sure to stress your cooperation in my report and you might get some clemency from a judge; or we find it on our own and you're in deep trouble."

"I don't cook anything I swear!"

"Zack, don't mess around with me right now because I really don't have any patience. I want you to explain to me how one of my investigators is currently high as a kite after spending time and passing out in one of the rooms of your house?" I ask sharply. "I can put my hand on the fire about the fact that she doesn't use anything and that her current state is due to something wrong happening in your house."

"I don't…" he protests but I go on, cutting him off.

"And you better believe that if anything wrong happened to her that will add on top of the drug charges!"

"I swear I'm not…"

"I'm starting to think that you were probably high yourself and that the intruder was one of your clients, that it was a deal gone wrong."

"I don't know what you're taking about!" he shouts. "I've told you, I don't…"

He stops in mid sentence and frowns, I can see the wheels turning in his head at a frantic speed. "The rocket…" he mutters. "Shit."

"What is it?" I prompt.

"Can you describe the room in which your agent was?"

"I looked like a lightly furnished library, few bookshelves, a couch, white boards against two walls."

Zack winces. "Okay, uh… I don't cook drugs that is the truth, I swear," he rubs his forehead. "Here's the thing, I work as a neuroscientist, right. I'm conducting a study, a very serious study on substances that enhance brain performances."

"Get to the point."

"I'm serving as my own test subject. I created this substance, right, based on my researches it's a specific blend and I'm changing it according to my results and all. I use it through inhalation, I made this system of electric burner so that the product is turned into fumes that I inhale, that way it takes longer to set in my system and I have enough time to make observations."

"This sounds a lot like a lie to me," I'm more than sceptical.

"No, no, I can prove it.! There are tones of notebooks in my study and DVDs of my different trials. You'll see that I'm not lying and this is a serious thing!"

"It still fails to explain how one of my teammate came to inhale it," I point.

"I was about to make a trial tonight, so I plugged the rocket only I heard the noise and that's when I found the body in my house, then I called you guys and I completely forgot about the rest. But it's not illegal, I'm not selling anything and again this is serious, it's just that instead of paying someone to try the substance on or testing on animals I test it on myself."

"What's a rocket?" I hang onto one detail.

"That's the name I gave to the solution," he grins.

"Hey! One of my people inhaled your stuff, there's nothing to smile about," I reprimand him immediately. "Tell me about that product of yours and its effects."

"They'll be high at first, well kind of, they'll be acting like a hyperactive child more like. You know I actually use glow in the dark paint to keep my attention in the room during the first moments of the substance taking effect. " he smiles proudly.

"Do you, by any chance, put glow in the dark paint on the soles of your feet?"

"Yeah, how do you know?" he frowns

"Your footprints led us to the room," I inform him. Of course glow in the dark pain looks like regular spots once dry, but it was probably still glowing a bit when Sara started her inspection. "That's it? You regress to a childish behaviour? How does that qualify as brain enhancing?" I get back on track.

"After a while the brain starts firing up like crazy," he beams.

"Firing up?"

"Yeah, enhanced memory, quick thinking, slight sensory overload, and ability to process a lot of information at the same time."

"Side effects?"

"Headaches, slight nausea, and blurry memories, nothing bad considering that it's experimental," he shrugs.

"That sounds suspiciously innocent," I frown.

"I know right?" Zack chortles proudly "Now, I just need to avoid the high and…"

"Zack," I interrupt his amazed rant. "She passed out inhaling your crap."

"That has never happened before… of course I only have myself as a comparison and…" he once again trails off as if realizing something.

"Zack?"

"How long did you say she was in the room?"

"I don't know, why?"

"I only experiment five minutes every time, well I pushed to ten minutes… so I only know the effects for those parameters, and you know… changed parameters means new results," he explains. "But I've been experimenting for a while now so I think I've built a resistance which can easily explain her passing out, her organism not being used to…" he purses his lips clearly having a 'oh crap' moment of realisation.

"What?"

"I… I…" he stammers.

"You what?" I press.

"I didn't get a chance to set the timer," he has a contrived smile.

I process his words and I feel ice forming in the pit of my stomach as a detail hits me. "We were apart for about fifty minutes," I state out loud.

"You said you had someone at my house right now?"

I take my phone immediately and place a call to Warrick. "What are we looking for?"

"The burner it's a white device on the floor next to the couch, if it smells like apple or candy that's it. There's a glass tank attached to it, see there's still something left in."

I relay the information to Warrick and wait for an answer. It seems like I'm listening to silence for hours before Warrick speaks again. "It's empty."

"Uh oh…"

"Rick, bag it, call you back," I hang up. "Uh oh?" I repeat Zack's last statement.

Zack has a nervous smile but doesn't say anything. I lose all patience. "Zack!" I slam my hand on the table. My sudden gesture startles him. "One of my people is high with god knows what in their bloodstream, anything happens to her you _will_ be held responsible, this is a guarantee, so speak!"

"There was over 90 minutes worth of solution in the tank," he talks with an unsteady voice. "It was about 30 minutes between me finding the body and you showing up," he marks a pause and thinks. "How long do you think she took before finding the room?"

"We were apart for fifty minutes, supposing she saw your glowing footprints… that's probably ten to fifteen minutes to take pictures and mark her way to your experimenting room," I reason.

"That's more or less forty five minutes of inhalation… oh boy," he passes a hand over his face. "I call the whole thing a rocket because first it gets you high and then it fuels your brain," he licks his lips nervously. "Five to ten minutes of inhalation and you're on the moon. Forty five minutes? She's most likely in another galaxy."

I tighten my jaw not to say anything inappropriate but I know that careless, utterly stupid and irresponsible are just some of the words I have in mind right now.

"You better hope for your own sake that she gets through that… 'rocket haze' of yours unarmed, because otherwise you are in a shitload of trouble," I punctuate the last words of my warning before standing up.

"I don't suppose I could observe her for my…" my death glare freezes him. "Right, I didn't ask… she should be okay really, she'll have a hell of a headache but she should be okay. Make sure to hydrate her regularly," he says nervously.

I push my chair back and stand up. "I'm going to check on my partner, and we're going to put you in holding until I find what to do with you."

"Oh come on!" he protests but I don't pay attention and leave the room wanting to check on Sara.

xxxxx

I found Sara where I left her with Nick in one break room. I'm about to ask Nick how Sara is doing but I'm distracted by Sara herself.

"Is she trying to do what I'm thinking?" I frown.

"Yeah, she's been at it for five minutes, one finger at a time," Nick replies not sparing a glance in my direction Sara is apparently trying to put her fist in her mouth. "Do we know what she inhaled?"

"A rocket," I snort with despise. "Some solution supposed to enhance brain performance."

I get into detail about my interrogation of Jamison. "What an idiot," Nick shakes his head. "I mean, that he experiments on himself is one thing but he's trying something without any supervision and that's stupid. How can he be sure of everyone's reaction to his solution? What if Sara hadn't been the one exposed to it? What if it had been a kid or an elderly? This is carelessness."

Our attention is on Sara who's making weird sounds of jubilation now that her whole fist is in her mouth. I close my eyes with a grin in spite of the current situation. I'd never thought I'd see the day Sara turns into a toddler. It's a good thing that she most likely won't remember a thing because I don't think there is a hole deep enough for her to crawl into to hide from embarrassment.

xxxxx

"We lost her…" I repeat for the fifth time. "We _lost_ her! How could that possibly happen?"

We're running around the lab to find Sara. We turned out back for a total of twenty seconds and she was gone, vanished! We're always two steps behind her, every lab tech tells us the same story, they saw her, she was touching everything and a bit 'off' or 'funny' but every time we get there she's already somewhere else.

I've always known the lab to be big but today I'm starting to appreciate how many rooms there are: way too many.

"She's six feet tall… we lost a six feet tall women who's high, damn it!" I curse before grabbing my head in frustration.

Of course it had to be Sara, the only person to probably know every corner of the lab. I'm more concerned by the fact that she's high, because she could ruin evidence, have an accident or some kind of bad reaction to that blasted solution, or do something harmful; there are firearms and dangerous products in the building for goodness sake!

"Cath, Cath, Cath!" Nick interrupts our run in the corridor. I look at him expectantly. He points something on the floor to me. "Golden fingerprint powder."

Yes! Sara and I are the only one to have that powder, she got me some for my birthday last year and I know for a fact that she got herself a small stash.

I don't try to imagine what she's been doing with it in her state, but at least now she's leaving a trail. We start following the powder, it leads us to her office and there's a pile of powder on her desk, there are two opened bottles, half the content of which is on the floor. Sara is going to be so pissed when she realises that she wasted them.

I briefly wonder how many she had before cursing under my breath. "That's where the trail starts," I growl.

We took the trail in the wrong sense, falling further behind from Sara than we were. Nick and I rush on the other direction.

My phone rings and I pick up without looking at the caller. "Willows."

"_I think she's on the roof, get there quick!_" Warrick warns me.

I hang up and start running, this is not good at all. I'm starting to pray whatever force may be so that she doesn't decide to defy gravity.

Nick and I rush on the roof and effectively Sara is there, staggering since she's not paying attention to her steps. She's making awestruck sounds and can't seem to focus her attention on anything.

"Sara?" I call her gently. "Sara?"

She eventually registers the sound of my voice. "Hey friend…" she waves her hand at me with a wide smile, her face and hands are covered with golden powder. "It's so shiny…" she suddenly focus on her hand "I got magic powder," she beams proudly, her face is covered with golden power, so are her hands and her clothes, there's even some in her hair.

"That's nice," I reply. "I have some too, do you want to see?"

"Yeah," she talks with a childish slur.

"It's inside, come I'll show you," I hold my hand out.

"I'm shiny…" she looks away. "Oh look, fireflies…" she starts walking dangerously close to the edge.

"Sara!" I call with urgency getting her attention back. "Nick," I call him softly, I don't elaborate but he gets my point and tries to approach Sara as slowly as possible while I'm distracting her. "I have magic powder and… loads of magic stuff," I address Sara again, talking a bit louder than I need to just to make sure to keep her attention.

I lose her a for a moment because she's looking at her tongue, looking at it then making a funny face and working her mouth as if she had a bitter taste in it. I notice that her tongue is glowing, I think she tried to eat her power first… like any curious kid would.

She notices Nick moving toward her and takes a step back, getting closer to the edge, barely two steps away from a five stories fall.

"I… I… I have a lot of magic things to show you," I quickly get her attention back but she's still looking at Nick and taking another step back. Nick immediately stops his progression. "Sara! Look at me, look at me," I wait a second and she's back with me again. "That's it, do you want to see the magic things? Yeah?"

She's looking at me, then at Nick, then at me again. "I have… glow sticks! They're shiny," I talk with a joyful voice which contrasts with the dread holding my guts. "We can make you magic bracelets, do you want that?"

"Shiny," she repeats.

"Yeah, exactly, come with me we'll play with shiny magic things," I coax.

"Yeah," she beams again and takes a step in my direction.

Just as I'm breathing in relief there the sound of a car coming, the sirens beep loudly attracting Sara's attention immediately. "Ooh, flashy!" she walks toward the lights without thinking.

Falling off the roof.

"Sara!" Nick shouts, there are also screams coming from below.

I'm so shocked that my voice is stuck in my throat.

She fell.

My brain refuses to process the gravity of what's happening…

This is a dream, this is a dream…

Please let me wake up…

I look at Nick, barely breathing, neither of us is willing to go to the edge and look.

Sara plunged into the air, it's quite a fall and I don't want to see her on the floor. Gravity's a bitch so it can't be good. There's nothing but concrete down there, no obstacle whatsoever, I know that I'll most likely see her bent at an odd angle…

…dead.

I feel like I have just received a punch in the guts crushing everything inside, the situation is sinking in and tears are burning my eyes already. I bend over about to throw up, trying but failing to breathe.

"Oooh… magic! I'm flying!"

What the…

I look at Nick and we both run to the edge.

Impossible…

Somehow Sara's vest was caught on the empty flag holder which is sticking out of the wall at the first floor level. It's like someone was holding Sara from her collar, she's moving her limbs slowly, enjoying her position, not realizing for a second that she almost kissed death.

"I'm flying…" she states again with amazement. "Magic powder… ooh…"

She must have a lucky star because she just defied the laws of probabilities.

"Fucking hell," I breathe out, barely getting a hang on my emotions.

"Talk about a miracle," Nick agrees, he breathes out in relief. I can see tears rolling on his cheeks.

We just went from mourning to relief in a matter of seconds, that's an emotional elevator if I know one. Panic is still there though because Sara has yet to hit the firm ground.

Warrick and Greg who are down there are giving orders trying to find something for a safe landing and sending other people on the first floor see if we can pull her up. People don't have time to do anything though because Sara's jacket suddenly tears up in two and she falls down the last few meters, landing unceremoniously.

"Sara!"

Nick and I hurry to get downstairs and get to her, I don't think I was ever that fast in my life apart maybe from the time I had to get Lindsey out of that sinking car.

When we arrive Warrick and Greg are already at Sara's sides forcing her not to move too much, she's looking at them with confusion, not understanding the attention.

"I have a boo-boo…" she holds her right arm.

"We're going to clean it up," Warrick assures her still looking at her frantically to see if he's not missing any wound.

"It stings," she pouts.

Unbelievable…

She fell off the roof and all she has to show for it are a scratched knee, a deep cut on one of her forearm and a long scrape on her back.

I breathe out in relief for the first time in almost an hour. I look at the guys and we are all still not believing what just happened, I think we all aged ten years during the last few minutes.

xxxxx

Not willing to repeat the same mistake we are taking watch after Sara and never leaving her without surveillance even for a second. She might have been lucky so far but we don't want to tempt fate. We're making sure she's drinking a lot of water we even fed her a bit.

The golden print powder is making her skin glow, and her tongue as well. She has considerably calmed down since the beginning, her focus is not shifting as before, I think that the rocket is finally wearing off, thank goodness for that.

So far she spends several minutes staring into space then she looks at something else. We gave some paper and markers in case she felt like drawing or writing. We tried to talk to her but she doesn't seem interested in talking, at least not to someone else because she's muttering to herself a lot.

Nick takes his turn to watch her while I go and talk to Grissom who has finally come back from his meeting.

xxxxx

After a long conversation with Grissom I go back to see Sara.

"How is she?" I ask Nick when I enter the break room in which we keep Sara.

"Hyperactive," he says motioning Sara who's writing frantically on her last piece of paper then she stands up and uses a marker on a white board, or at least what used to be a white board, it's now covered with equations.

Every single piece of paper we gave her is on the floor, I pick on and see that it's covered with numbers, words, as if she was trying to solve something.

If she was a child earlier, it looks like she has morphed into an adult again. She's writing fast and then looks at paper then she goes back on the board, I try to communicate with her but she's in her world.

I think her brain is firing up, as Zack had put it.

I'm still a bit worried because the drug is still in her bloodstream, but there's something reassuring in the fact that she can now focus her mind onto something coherent. I take that over having her trying to fly and seeing magic everywhere.

Just when I'm about to take my turn for the watch Grissom calls me back to his office.

xxxxx

I had to make a full round of every lab and take a report from anyone who had a contact with Sara to make sure nothing was compromised and assess the eventual damages. There are still hours left to the shift, but I'm already tired, all this excitation has drained me.

"Cath," Warrick intercepts me.

"Aren't you supposed to be watching over Sara?" I immediately ask.

"I am."

"You left her alone again? Rick, come on!"

"Don't worry about that, she's not going to go anywhere. We have a bigger problem, I think she's having a very bad reaction," he explains.

We run to the break room, I can feel a chill running down my spine when I arrive in the room. There are twice as many pieces of paper on the floor, but Sara has written on the walls, on the floor, on the table and now she's pacing and talking a mile a minute.

This is not good.

"Sara?" I call her gently as I approach, she doesn't react to my voice and instead keeps talking to herself. "Sara," I carefully put a hand on her shoulder.

She looks at me and the first thing I notice is how dark her eyes are and how pale she is. "The equation is impossible, it's impossible, see I tried to solve it but it was impossible, Mr Donovan was testing us, see he gave us an impossible equation to see if we would catch the problem but I didn't know, I do know, it's impossible…"

She writes something else on the board, strikes some numbers and then moves about in the room and rummages quickly among the papers. She goes to the wall and writes again. "The equation is the base for all the theorem but it's wrong, so the whole theorem is wrong, this is wrong…" her words become unintelligible.

"She's been like this for the past twenty minutes," Warrick explains. "We tried to stop her but it's like she was in a bubble."

I turn around and see that Nick and Greg are there too. I thought the worse was behind us but if I'm honest she's freaking me out right now.

"Page 87!" she suddenly exclaims. "It was on page 87!" she repeats before reciting something.

I go next to her again. "Sara, you need to calm down," I talk softly.

She looks at me. "Do you know that the march 21st of 1995 was a Tuesday? It was my physics day, and I tried to solved the theorem but I failed because my equations were wrong, or at least I thought they were but I had approach the whole thing backwards, see…" she points the wall. "Fuck I'm hot," she tries to undo the button of her shirt but ends up tearing it up, three buttons pop and fly in the air.

She talks to herself again, this time I grab her face to force her to look at me. I gasp at the feel of her skin, she's literally burning up. She pushes my hands away and I realize that she's shaking badly, she rummages through the papers again. Whatever she's looking for it turns out to be on the board, she moves her hand over her writing, muttering. Suddenly she's hitting her head several times quickly.

She kneels down and starts filling one of the last spot untouched on the board. As she's mumbling her teeth are chattering together, all her attention is on the board. "I went ewwy … I went…" she raises a trembling hand in a vague direction then hits her forehead again. "It's there… damn it… I know it's there…"

She went ewwy? What does that mean?

"She went what? Sara?" I try to get her attention again but in vain. "Sara? Sara? Sweetie, what did you mean?" I turn to the boys hoping that they might know what she meant.

There's a long pause.

"Oh," of course Greg is the first one to get it. "It means she got sick," he explains before starting to move around the room looking for a confirmation. "Did you leave her alone?"

"I did to get Cath," Warrick declares.

"She's burning up," I reveal.

Greg moves a pile of paper and makes a face of disgust. "Yep, it's confirmed, she did vomit."

He frowns suddenly and I pick up immediately on the oddness of the room.

It's quiet.

All eyes turn to Sara, she seems frozen in front of the board, her hand is up stopped in mid motion, shaking. She's not talking anymore.

"Sara?"

Times stops a few seconds, her breathing is heavy and then silent. Warrick reacts first and rushes behind her just as she's going limp and falls backward.

"Get Doc Robbins here and fast!" I order, getting to Sara's sides as well.

Please, let her be alright, please, let her be alright.

xxxxx

"She scared me to death," Greg's whisper echoes in the hospital room.

"Me too," I admit.

We're both watching over an unconscious Sara. I had questioned Zack to know exactly what was in his solution, of course he didn't have anything to counter the effect, and that kind of things takes time. She has been examine by Doc Robbins who assured us that the best was to wait and see, but that we should take her to the hospital just out of safety.

Greg puts a hand over his eyes and I pretend not to hear the sob that escapes from him. He clears his throat to cover his slip. "I'm going to get coffee, do you want one?" he asks before turning is head away, but I have time to notice a single tear rolling along his cheek.

"Yeah sure," I reply, then focus on Sara to allow him a moment to compose himself again.

I hear the door being opened and closed, for the first time I'm alone with Sara. After a few seconds of hesitation I put my hand over hers, I squeeze her hand then break the contact, not feeling comfortable.

I think after today's shift I'm ready to re-evaluate the situation regarding Sara. She almost died twice today and the both times the thought broke my heart.

I care about her.

A lot.

I don't know if things will ever be as good as they used to between us, but right now I know without a doubt that I'm ready to make an effort.

* * *

**I'll try to be good and come back next week.**

**Thanks for reading.  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi everybody, thank you so much for the kind reviews. I'm back with more.**

**Enjoy,**

**So ;)**

**Ps: Thank you **Immi** for sticking to my sides and helping me getting this right.**

* * *

**Chapter 6**

**Sara's POV**

I've been receiving extra attention from everyone in the lab for the past two weeks. I was the active participant of some incidents I don't even remember.

The way I remember it I was at a scene, I felt light headed and passed out, I remember having Catherine giving me an earful about it, then the next thing I remember is waking up at the hospital.

Apparently I inhaled something at a scene, which made me high and then I had one hell of a bad trip. The version of the story the guys gave me was that for about two hours I was like a hyperactive child or toddler, I ran everywhere, tried to eat my fist, actually ate some of my _super expensive_ golden print powder before covering myself with it thinking it was some sort of magical thing, I was being amazed by everything.

They said it was rather funny until my inability to see danger and complete loss of reality became a serious problem. All they were willing to say was that I gave them the scare of their lives.

I've been hearing wild tales through the gossip radio, some so wild they are hardly believable. In some versions I went on the roof and jumped to see if I could fly; other versions have me hanging myself on the flag holder, another one has me trying to drink dangerous products and losing it.

Like I said, all wild tales. I guess I'll never know until the team lets me in on it, for now they are just still under shock so I can only guess that I did some really dangerous things.

All I have from that night are the traces I left behind and the visible marks I have. I have empty gold print powder pots, I have a torn jacket and a torn shirt, I have ripped jeans, a scratched knee, bruises, a cut on my back, a gash on one of my forearm, I even found chewed gum in my jean pocket. Oh and the wildest part of it? I wrote on a table of one of the break rooms, and on the floor, and on the wall; when I saw this it gave me the chills, seriously.

I don't know what I was on but one thing's for sure, it was strong.

"Hey."

I look up and see Catherine at the door of my office. "Hey, do you need me for something?" I immediately get into business.

"No… I… just wanted to see if you were alright."

I'm a bit taken aback but get over it quickly. "I'm alright, bored out of my mind with paperwork, but alright."

I'm almost certain I see the shadow of a grin on her lips as she nods before walking away. Catherine's behaviour is another clue about the fact that whatever happened when I was under influence was bad. I wouldn't say that things have changed but she has softened her strictly work related interaction, just a little bit. This is the fifth time she surprises me by checking up on me, and earlier she even gave me coffee.

It's nothing big and it might not last, but I like it for now. I'm in no position to ask for more or push, she's setting the pace and I follow, that's our new dynamic and it's fine by me.

xxxxx

"Sara?"

My head snaps in the direction of Adam. I frown, I don't remember getting here. My lack of sleep aside I'm starting to fear that whatever I inhaled the other time might have negative effects on my memory.

"I can't sleep," I declare. I've never been a big sleeper but this is different. "I'm afraid to sleep," I specify.

It's like my unconscious mind was trying to push something to the surface and yet my conscious mind was too afraid to let that happen.

"I have this… I feel like if I so much as sleep something bad is going to happen. I lie down and close my eyes, then almost immediately I feel like I was suffocating. I'm afraid to sleep," I repeat.

"Something bad?"

"It terrifies me," just thinking about it makes my heart race.

"Sara… Sara…"

I can't breathe, I feel my lungs working but no air is getting in. "Sara… you're having a panic attack, breathe in slowly… Sara!"

I see dark spots, I still can't breathe. Adam's face is close to mine, I briefly think that it's weird to see his face disturbed with panic because it's not like him at all, then everything fades away.

xxxxx

I stand up when I see Greg coming up the stairs, he stops for a second when he sees me then walks again. I've been waiting for him for the past 40 minutes, sitting next to the door of his apartment. I still have my own set of keys but I never let myself in unless he allows me to – not that there were much occasions for that to happen in months.

"I… I should have called," I say nervously rubbing my trembling hands on my thighs.

"Don't be silly, you never have to call," he replies with a small and vacant grin.

He opens the door of his apartment and lets me in first before following me, locking his door again. I stay in the living room not quite knowing what to do with myself. Greg simply takes off his jacket and goes into his kitchen.

Ever since the car accident I haven't been alone once with Greg. There was always someone, be it his family, co-worker or his physical therapist. Save for those occasions we wouldn't see each other either, I couldn't say if it was a conscious decision or just and unconscious one. All I know is that I had this sense of dread and panic at the idea to be alone with him which was odd because of all the people in my life he's one of the few who know me the best and that has always been a source of security.

It finally dawned on me that the reason why Greg and I were not talking properly anymore was because there was only one thing we needed to discuss and that neither of us was able to bring that topic on the table.

I haven't slept since I don't know when, and I don't think that passing out in Adam's office five days ago counts as resting. I know what has been at the core of all my crises, it's not that I had ever forgotten about it, but more like I still had the ability to pretend, I've lost that power now.

I have to close my eyes and steady myself when I feel bile suddenly rising in my throat. I look immediately at Greg who is opening and closing cupboards apparently without knowing what he's looking for.

"It's you…" I murmur not loud enough to be heard.

That fruity smell that has been triggering some of my latest crises was coming from him. I walk to a stool on the other side of his island and sit down feeling my chest being constricted again.

The sound of something breaking startles me, I look and see that Greg broke an egg in a bowl, but he used too much force also half of the shell is in the bowl and half of the egg is out of it. He takes out the shell off the bowl and takes another egg.

Once again the egg explodes in his hand "Damn it!" he curses. He closes his eyes, his jaw is clenched when he sighs in frustration. He pushes the bowl violently into the sink and uses a rag to clean his sticky hand.

Greg is not one to lose his temper, at least he wasn't. He has changed ever since we broke up, we both did, but he used to have a bright personality, all that is gone now or at least it's not as radiant. What's more is that ever since our car accident it's like a dark cloud was constantly over him.

We used to be so good at talking to one another, and right now it's like we were strangers, slowly decaying in our corners and pretending that everything is alright.

Things aren't alright, they haven't been for years. The reason everything has been falling apart for months on my side is because of us, of Greg and I, because at one point we fell apart.

"I hope you don't mind cereals for breakfast," he declares with an emotionless voice.

"Do you know what day it is today?" I ask, ignoring his words.

He stops moving at once, looking at me. "I do."

The change in the atmosphere is radical, it feels like the temperature has dropped to subzero.

"Did you go see her?" I ask after a long silence.

"Yes," he nods. "There hasn't been a day I didn't go."

"I don't know how you do it…" I mumble looking at my hands.

"I could say the same about you," he replies with a small shake of his head. "Two years, Moon," he stresses out. "You haven't been there once, have you?"

I feel anger immediately pick up. "Don't you judge me," I reprimand him. I stand up and walk back into the living room turning my back to him. "I'm not like you, I can't… I'm not like you," I shake my head. "You can't possibly fathom what I've been through," I spit bitterly.

"What did you just say?"

"You heard me," I'm in no mood to play games right now.

I'm surprised when I feel his hand wrapping around my wrist forcing me to turn around. "Say that again," he demands. "You look at me straight in the eyes and say that again," his voice is steady and even but I pick up immediately on the fact that he's angry.

"Let go," I order instantly, I don't think he's even realizing how strong and painful his grip is.

He lets go of my wrist immediately. He opens and closes his mouth several times, never saying a word. "I can't possibly fathom what you've been through?" he repeats the words with disbelief. "What was I? A bystander?"

I stare back at him not finding any words to reply. He blinks slowly waiting for an answer from me but doesn't get any. "How dare you coming here and belittling what I'm feeling?" he asks. "How dare you act like you somehow had the monopole of pain?"

There's a long silence, for the first time I feel completely disconnected from what's happening. I want to say something and yet it's like I was watching myself and Greg from afar.

"You think you're the only one who suffers?" he goes on. "I died as well two years ago Sara," he whispers. "You didn't lose a child," he speaks slowly. "_We_ lost a child, we lost _our_ daughter," he marks every word.

The brown of his eyes is so dark that it chills me to the bone. "You remember that? Do you even remember her? What she looked like, what she sounded like? Do you remember anything at all about her?" his voice isn't louder than a whisper yet he could have shouted that it wouldn't have made a difference.

"You've spent the last two years pretending that she was never there to begin with, that she has never existed," he frowns. "Frankly, I don't know how you do it because I can't think of anything else."

He shakes his head. "Every time I wake up I wish I could die rather than having to do through one more day of the torture of being there when she's not."

A tear rolls on one of his cheek. "I didn't think it could get worse, but to have you come here and treat me like I lost my goldfish, today of all day, just proved me wrong."

He swallows audibly and comes closer to me. "Get the hell out of here and don't ever come back," his voice is algid. "You're dead to me," he adds seriously before walking away from me.

**Adam's POV**

I've been anxiously watching the hours tick by, Sara called once but she should have called again an hour ago and she hasn't.

I had to make a call, and I've decided to give her another hour to give me a sign of life, failure to do so will have me going to her place.

Today is a sensitive day, I do know that. Unconsciously Sara knows it too. The only reason I'm not looking for her right now is because I chose to believe that she still has enough good sense left to push the alarm button on her own.

The mind is a powerful thing, every moment of life is recorded and stored in there. Some moments will come to you with disconcerting clarity no matter how old the memory they belong to, others will seem forever forgotten, most of the time because they are insignificant.

The mind is the first device of survival instinct and self preservation. Your mind will block the access to the memories that are too hard for you to handle: traumatic events, embarrassing moments, emotionally devastating episodes of your life. Once those moments were lived your mind will lock them up and block the access just so your conscious self can try and function properly.

If you're lucky, those Pandora's boxes won't ever be opened again. I don't think anyone is ever that lucky.

There's a catch, your memories have a life of their own and they will come unexpectedly to the surface through any stratagems possible: dreams, feelings of déjà-vu, slip of tongue or – like in Sara's case – crises.

Sara's mind has been keeping a tight lid on her most traumatic memory, and this is the reason why Sara made it so far, it was a protective necessary measure. Only that memory has been pushing its way to the surface and I think she's close to breaking point.

Time doesn't heal, dealing with things heal. The only way for traumatic events not to hurt you anymore is to face them, deal with them and learn to live with them. It is a painful process and the longer you've waited for the confrontation the harder it is.

Sara has still refused to be confronted with what haunts and hurts her the most, and now that it's torturing her the most she's not anymore ready than she was before or any better prepared; seeing how fragile she is at the moment, my worry is justified.

I'm on my feet in the second I hear knocks on my door. I don't breathe out in relief when I see Sara though. The first thing I notice is the blood covering her left hand that seems to be dripping from her forearm. She's pale and I can immediately tell that something is off.

"I think he uses it as an aftershave…" she declares softly. "I don't feel anything…"

I reach out a hand slowly so as not to scare her, I pull her inside and she doesn't resist. I guide her to the couch and force her to sit down.

"The baby lotion… raspberry and vanilla… he uses it…" she's delivering every word with detachment, staring blankly in front of her.

The moment I was dreading has happened, she has snapped; the fact that she can name the smell that has been setting her off lets me know that her memory made it through.

As I'm shading her jacket I think about the fact that I gave her too much room today, I knew the risk and I should have tighten my watch on her. I made a bad judgement call, it's by sheer damn luck that her last ounce of rationality brought her to my office right now. It's nothing short of a miracle considering how divorced from reality she appears to be at the moment.

"I don't feel anything…" she repeats.

The sleeve of her once white shirt is soaked with blood, the iron smell is strong and nauseating. Sara is not moving she's just staring ahead of her, talking with a monotone voice. I call her several times, try to communicate but she's unresponsive. Whatever happens to make her connect the dots put her in shock, her mind is stuck on the same information: the origin of the smell that made her sick, the use of the product and her absence of feelings.

I act quickly but hold back a curse when I uncover her left forearm. I leave Sara two minutes to get my medical bag, when I return she hasn't moved or stopped her monochord declarations.

She doesn't react when I clean her wounds, I had feared that she would need stitches but as it turned out, deep as the cuts were bandages were enough.

I spend the next hours waiting patiently, debating inwardly about my next course of action. The solution of admitting Sara into a facility is weighting heavily on the scale. I do not like this idea because it may do more damages to her than good, but if the state she's in does not change it might be my only option.

"… it's the baby lotion… you know… I think he uses it as an aftershave…" Sara's voice resounds again. "Raspberry and…" Sara interrupts herself abruptly.

After five hours this is the first 'glitch' in her state. I lean in slowly in my armchair, not making any noise, just waiting for a full reaction.

I only have to wait another minute to get it.

"She's dead…" Sara blinks slowly. "I don't feel anything…"

Small, barely perceptible changes are visible on Sara's face, little ticks, the way she blinks her eyes; her shocked emotionless expression is slowly morphing into one of incommensurable pain.

"My daughter's dead…" she has a small frown. "I don't feel anything…"

Two years ago when she told me what had happened she never used the word 'dead' even then her mind refused to wrap itself around the concept.

That day she had started our session by telling me about a story she had written about hope, the story was about a train travelling in the fog and she had set me off my footing by explaining that she was nowhere in the train but rather on the tracks in the path of the train.

I had never expected what came next, but that day she broke down and that day I crossed the line between us for the first time. I held her hand silently while she cried her eyes out.

She has been mentally out of this room for the past hours but she's slowly gaining consciousness, as her own words ring out in the room. She blinks several times, panic creeps on her face distorting her features then for the first time her eyes set on me, her breathing quickens.

"Reese is dead…I don't…" the rest of her sentence is swallowed in the violent sob that shakes her.

Her face is briefly frozen with an expression of pain, a painful cry erupts from her throat as she starts crying violently letting indescribable pain pour out of her.

This time I don't even bother arguing with myself, debating about what I should do. I simply stand up and go to sit next to her on the couch, wrapping my arms protectively around her, she leans in and holds on to me to dear life.

"She's dead… she's dead," she wallow over and over again.

"I know," I reply softly, tenderly rocking her back and forth. "I know."

* * *

**I know, I know… you're probably thinking that this came out of nowhere. **

**However, I've had this scene in mind back when I was writing chap 29 of 'What do you shrink?', in fact that very scene is the one that gave ground to my decision to write a sequel. **

**All of 'What do you shrink?' from chap 29 on has been written around the chap you've just read. And like I said back then I had left a lot of blanks to fill, the first one of them is now filled.**

**Now, don't go anywhere this is still a C/S story, but you know me, I don't do nice and easy and I warned you from the get go that Greg wouldn't fall off a cliff, so you'll just have to trust me.**

**Thanks for reading.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Howdy everyone! Thank you all for your kind reviews. I'm sorry for the long delay but I was suffering that good Ol' writer's block, not so much about what to write than how to write it. Anyway, I'm back.**

**Enjoy,**

**So ;)**

**Ps: **Immi,** as usual thank you for the help.**

* * *

**Chapter 7**

_**Catherine's POV**_

I take a sip from my beer, apprehension is slowly building up in me. Warrick is sitting next to me having a beer as well, we are sitting on the balancing bench that is on the porch giving into the backyard of my house.

I take a deep breath and brace myself. "Alright, give it to me."

Today I've decided to introduce Warrick to Emily, the lunch went well, at least it looked that way. Warrick has yet to give me his opinion on Emily. He's my best friend and confident, his opinion matters a lot to me, what's more over the years he has been a better judge about my frequentations than I was myself.

"She's nice," he simply replies before taking a sip of his bottle, I wait for him to continue but to my great surprise he doesn't.

"That's it?" I ask with confusion. Warrick has never been one to be at lost for words.

"Yeah."

"That's a bit… short," I reflect.

"She's funny and witty."

"Wow, nice, funny and witty, three adjectives, my, my, aren't you generous today," I chortle.

He laughs softly. "What do you want me to say, Cath?"

"I want you to tell me what's on your mind," I point out. "It's like you're holding back. I never had to beg you before."

He purses his lips and takes a gulp of his beer. "You… you're not in love with her," he states rather than asks.

I snort. "No, not yet, but I'm getting there," I suddenly feel like I was defending myself. "It's still new."

"You've been together for what? Five months?"

"Four, given or take a few days," I correct him. "I like her, very much so. And my feelings are growing the way they should, slowly but surely."

"Okay," he agrees after a long silence.

"No, come on," I shake my head. "Don't go down that road then all the sudden stop," I feel slightly irritated. "If you have something in mind then go on all the way and spit it."

"Relax, Cath. I wasn't implying anything, I wasn't judging or trying to diminish what you're having with her or your feelings," he argues.

"But?"

He drinks silently, formulating his idea in his head before exposing it. "You're passionate."

His statement takes me aback because it seems out of place, like he was trying to change topic or answering something I asked him in another conversation. I don't comment on it though, and wait for him to continue.

"That's your thing, you're passionate, you always give yourself whole in things," he pauses. "We've known each other for over a decade and I can count on one hand the number of lovers you had who meant something, and every time you introduced them to me I could see that passion, you had taken a leap of faith giving everything you had, and hope for the best. And even if it didn't work with one, you'd still give it all for the next good one."

I nod a bit because he's right about that. For a long time I took this as a force, in retrospect I think that I was just naïve and careless.

"Tonight, I didn't see any of that. Yes, Emily seems great, she has a good sense of humour, she's smart and beautiful… but I didn't see any fire, not even a sparkle. That took me aback and got me wondering if you really liked her or if you were just settling for less so you wouldn't be alone."

Ouch, now that's harsh.

"If you're telling me that you're happy with her and that you're really into her, then that's great, go for it. I'm more than glad to be wrong. Now, if you're just trying to avoid being alone, then I can't exactly say that I agree with that. I know solitude can be hard to bear, but being with someone just not to be alone isn't exactly healthy, not to mention unfair on both parties," he finishes before taking a gulp of his beer.

As usual when I'm upset, I feel anger rising but I restrain myself from exploding in his face. I asked for honesty and that exactly what I got, whether I like it or not is another matter.

"I was in love with the one before Em. At first I thought I was just looking for an exit because Julianne and I were having a bad time, but as it turned out I was head over heel in love with them. Julianne and I fell apart because of that… well that and the fact that she was in love with Nancy to begin with," I chuckle a bit bitterly. I've dealt with all this but thinking about it is always unpleasant.

"I was in love with them and when I finally got the chance to be with them it was good for two weeks maybe three after that it was nothing but pain and anxiety. Do you know why? Because they didn't love me, and I don't think they ever were on the edge of falling for me. But I had given myself whole so I closed my eyes on the bad sides and kept telling myself it was good."

I drink a bit when I feel my voice wavering. "Just like every time I put passion ahead of reason I found myself with my heart in pieces and barely enough strength to pull myself together again."

Of all the meaningful relationship I had, the one with Sara was the shortest and yet somehow it was the most painful one.

"Somewhere I should have seen it coming," I snort. "Do you know what it's called when someone repeats the same things over and over again and yet expect a different result?" I ask rhetorically. "Insanity."

"I've been the personification of insanity since high school. When it comes to relationship I've been repeating the same pattern over and over again, getting hurt and broken hearted over and over again, and it took me this long to finally tell myself that maybe my way was the wrong way."

I finish my beer in one go. "So yeah, this time I'm using my mind rather than let my passion guide me into another wall. Maybe it's cynical but I don't care, it works. I like Em a lot and she likes me back, she wants to be with me and our relationship is healthy and steady. It's different from what I had before and that's good because heaven knows I need change. If you don't like it I honestly don't care, it works for me and that's all that matters in the end."

Warrick stares at me a few seconds, giving me a little time to calm down again. "Cath, I wasn't judging you or anything, all I said was that those changes took me a little aback."

He puts his bottle on the ground then reaches out to wraps me into a hug. "Come here," he whispers. "I love you and I want you to be happy; so if you're happy with Emily, then I'm happy," he concludes with a kiss on my crown.

I snuggle on his side and enjoy the affection.

Am I happy with Em? No, at least not yet, but I'm getting there.

_**Adam's POV**_

Sara is sleeping on the couch of my office. She cried hysterically for over two hours, she was exhausted but couldn't stop her racing mind, so I gave her a shot to ease her into sleep. I have no doubt that this is the first time in days that she's resting properly.

I've been watching her and thinking long and hard about our current situation. I have yet to find a solution to my current dilemma.

I glance at my watch and sigh, I grab my phone and dial a number by heart.

"_Grissom."_

"Gil, it's Adam."

"_Adam, how are you?"_ his tone goes from bossy to friendly.

"I'm alright."

"_What can I do for you?"_

"I'm calling about Sara," though I can't see him I know my words made him tense at once.

"_What happened?"_

"She won't come to work tonight, and tomorrow either"

"_Adam, what happened,"_ he repeats his question.

"She's in no state to work tonight," I reply neutrally.

"_Adam…"_

"Gil," I cut him off firmly. "I'm talking to you as her Shrink, not as your friend," I clarify. "You'll have to content yourself with that."

There's a long silence filled with tension, I know that my friend is inwardly boiling and restraining himself from getting mad at me. _"Fine,"_ the word is a conceded in a sharp whisper.

"Thank you," I reply. "I'll advise you further if need be."

I hang up and return to my quiet contemplation of Sara, wondering what my next move should be.

_**Catherine's POV**_

"Nick!" I call him as I see him turning in the corridor.

"Yes?"

"Have you seen Sara anywhere?"

"No, sorry."

"Alright, here's for you, robbery in a jewellery," I hand him a paper with the information. "I need you to go at this address."

"I just got in and I have a lot to process," he starts to protest.

"Nicky, drop your evidence in the labs then get back on the field," I tell him with my 'please-do-not-give-me-a-hard-time-right-now' tone before walking away.

I walk in different lab and ask for Sara, go to the board and see that she's still not in. I grab my phone and when I get her voicemail once more I don't leave a message – I already left four since the beginning of the shift, all my patience with her having left the building I think it's wise for me to change tactic.

I march with determination to Grissom's office, he gestures for me to enter while he's finishing his phone call. "No… no, it's an emergency, I have a leak in room that is filled with evidences I…" he grunts in frustration. "And I'm on hold again…" he states with a sigh then focuses on me.

"I was about to page you." He grabs two slips of pink paper on his desk and hands it to me. "Two 419," he informs me

"Are you kidding me? I was just called again…" I don't get to finish since he picks up another line.

Every now and then it's like the whole city turned into a mad house. Today is one of those days, everyone has decided to give into their impulses and do something crazy, so right now everyone is out and around at different scenes, yet we're still short handed.

"Colin, I want this room to be emptied right now, I know the lock of the other room is capricious, but the room is dry which is the most important right now… hold on."

"Griss," I try again but once more the phone sucks all his attention.

"No, that's in three days, I just told you that it was an emergency! We cannot allow the room to be flooded. Water means humidity and humidity will corrupt everything, I don't think you realize how critical evidences are… no don't put me on… hold again… damn it!" this time he doesn't censor himself. "Sorry you were saying?"

"I don't have anyone, that's why I was coming to you."

"Green and Burges from day shift are with us, send them away."

"I know they're with us tonight and because I _already_ sent them away. As a matter of fact everyone is on the field like they should except for Sara who's ignoring my calls. If you could get her royal highness to grace us with her presence it could help us a lot," I don't bother hiding my frustration with Sara.

He purses his lips not to snap back at me but his stare is just as eloquent. "She's unavailable," he simply says.

"She's on call!"

"I'm not…" he's interrupted by the phone. "I'm still here… yes… again it's an emergency…no I…" he sighs and returns his attention to me. "What now?"

"That's it?" the mere fact that he won't try to join her unhinges me. "She's…"

He raises his hand to stop me. "I'm Gil Grissom from the Las Vegas Crime Lab… that's what I've been telling you for over an hour!" he loses his patience.

He must sense that I'm about to continue my protest so he cuts me off. "Catherine, there's a board over there with the name of the people who are on call or about to be on call, you know how it works so if you need me to guide you through that you may need to reconsider your position as an assistant supervisor. Now please take care of the scenes and supervise the different labs. " he almost barks at me.

I'm boiling, in all the time I've known him I don't think I ever was that close to explode in his face in a disrespectful way. I wisely choose to turn my heels and go back to the shift of hell.

xxxxx

I knock on the door of Grissom's office and wait for him to invite me in.

I hand him several reports and sum up the shift so far, I knew from the beginning that this shift was about to be bad, but it was a Murphy, everything that could go wrong, went wrong. No one had more than a ten minutes break and we are still on a war path.

"Thank you, I'll need the new time table of the rotation when the second shift ends," he informs me.

"Yes sir," I answer with an algid voice and turn to leave. As I reach the door, my temper gets the best of me and I decide to confront him about earlier. I turn back to him and wait to have his full attention.

"You favour her, you always have," I declare, calmly. "It's not a reproach, but it's hard to have you questioning my abilities as a supervisor when you're taking a decision that's hurting the lab solely based on the fact that Sara is your favourite," I spill. "If it had been anyone else you'd have pick up a phone or send someone to drag us back to the lab and give us an earful about not responding to our duty, but it was her so you let it slide."

He takes a deep breath and ponders his next words. "I resent that remark. I always take decision with the best interest of each one of you and the team in mind. Unlike what you think Sara is not my favourite, had it been anyone else I'd have stood up against you just the same."

I don't say anything but I'm unconvinced by his declaration. He looks at his report again clearly done with our conversation. My anger and frustration are far from being assuage but Grissom being who he is I know I'll have to deal with all that on my own.

"You are a great CSI and a terrific supervisor," his voice rings again just as I'm about to leave. "I have no doubt that you will be behind my desk in a not too distant future."

Any other day I would have appreciate his compliment but right now it seems to me like he's trying to smooth things over which makes it hard to appreciate his good words.

"But?" I encourage him to finish his thought.

"You need to understand that from behind your desk you can see a few trees," I frown, now he lost me. "From behind my desk however not only I see the whole forest, but I also see and attend to each and every tree."

Uh?

"It all makes a huge difference when it comes to take a decision. You may not understand my decisions or even dislike some, be as it may I'll ask you to respect them at the very least until you find yourself on my seat."

I look at him, confused and not sure of what he just told me, but as far as he's concerned our conversation is over for he's already back to work.

Right.

I was angry before. Now I'm angry and frustrated. Thank you very much Grissom.

xxxxx

I thought I'd never go home again. I was surprised when Emily came to pick me up and I must say that after two shifts in hell I was more than happy to see her face.

Now that I'm home and exhausted, I can't stop myself thinking long enough to get some rest. Grissom's words have been bothering me and giving me a headache, trust him to choose his moments to go all Yoda like on me.

I turn around in my bed for the umpteenth time.

Damn it!

I lie on my back and sigh heavily as I'm staring at my ceiling. My mind inexplicably wanders off to Sara.

Figures…

Funny how she always seems to be at the core of my turmoil, not so funny but even I have to admit there's a certain pattern. In the end, she's been a bit pain in my butt for almost a decade.

She was the main reason of my bad mood today – I had been successful at not letting her get to me and I even took a step forward trying to be friendlier to her. Granted it wasn't much, I offered her three coffees and checked up on her a little more than necessary ever since her intoxication last week, but considering how things had ended between us it was a rather good start.

Then she didn't show for work while on call and that pissed me off… or maybe it was the fact that she didn't take any of my calls, fact that was made worse by the knowledge that she did reach out to Grissom. Maybe that's what bothers me the most, and it shouldn't after all I'm the second in command and she has to answer to him first.

I did cross the line while talking about her, I was angry, and I tend not to censor myself – not an excuse since I'm supposed to be mature and all, I know but that's how I am. I might even add that I'd improved, normally I'd bite my tongue, but sometimes when things are getting way out of hand my old habits come back.

I should let all this go, as part of my new policy not to put myself through unnecessary stress. I can't though, instead I can't stop thinking about trees, and forest and Sara…

This is ridiculous.

I know what Grissom meant, I know that it's all about seeing the big picture, sometimes when you focus on a detail you don't take everything in. As a second supervisor I know that unlike him who has to be up to date with everyone, there are some things I don't know, I see details but not the always the whole picture.

I'm not angry at Sara, I was on the moment but even then there was something else. There's something I've understood thanks to emotionally tedious sessions with Adam, Sara is the only person who can confuse me to such a degree that I have a hard time identifying my own emotions when it comes to her.

At first it was all about getting rid of her because she had barged into my team, then it was about not showing sign of weakness, then it was misplaced jealousy and it goes on and on. My anger with Sara is seldom just anger, more often than not it's another emotion I unconsciously disguise as anger.

Gee… I feel like I'm sharing my mind with Adam now, I'm analysing my emotions and think about it when I'm rational again. I wish I wouldn't do that though, not that I don't like trying to improve my ways, but I'd like to sleep right now, especially after my shifts.

I sigh, get out of bed – leaving Emily behind me – and go downstairs.

After a minute or two of hesitation I consent to grab my phone and dial a number. I'm both relieved and disappointed to be once again talking to her machine but I go on with it.

"Hi Sara it's me…" I say with uncertainty. "Catherine," I add after a second. "I…uh… called you earlier and left 3 or 4 messages which, I realize that now, might have been a bit aggressive and rude… the thing… well I thought you were on call and you wouldn't answer and it was quite a crazy shift… I left them before I had a chance to talk with Gil anyway…" I get suddenly very aware of the fact that I'm rambling on. "Anyway, I just wanted to apologize about those… but you know how I am when it comes to work, right… bye."

I stare at my phone not satisfied at all with what just happened. This was one weird message, if only for the fact that in any normal day I'd never have called to apologize for being aggressive on the phone regarding work.

"Damn it," I swear under my breath and redial my call. "Hi… it's me again, Catherine… and this is bordering harassment… right, could you please forget the message before that one… the truth is…" I pause.

I have the sudden urge to hang up, in fact I pulled the phone away from my ear and my thumb is about to press the button to end the call, but once more I restrain myself. "The truth is… that I was worried about you… I _am_ worried about you," I finally let out in one breath.

There, I said it.

"I hope everything is alright on your side, that's all I wanted to say. I'll stop calling now," I chortle nervously. "You take care of yourself, bye."

I hang up and take a few deep breaths strangely feeling as if I had just ran a marathon.

I'm worried about Sara, I hate that and I hate even more to admit it. Yes I was mad about the fact that she wasn't at the lab while on call but by the third time I called her I was worried, which in return made me angrier. I care about her, I do, but I don't want to go back to the point where she occupies my mind all the time. I just can't get down that road again, spending all my time thinking about her, her well being, letting her work her way under my skin again. It didn't end well the first time, and I've learnt my lesson.

I don't wish her any harm but at the moment when I'm trying to get my life back on track I need her not to be an obstacle.

On the other hand I had this nagging feeling in the back of my mind, like an alarm bell going off for some reason telling me that something was really bad with Sara, that's why I'm worried.

"Everything's alright?"

I jump out of my skin when I hear Emily behind me. "Sorry," she apologizes.

"I didn't hear you coming."

She wraps her arms around my waist. "You're okay?"

"Yeah…" Emily plunges her rich brown eye into mine and I decide to let her in. "I was a bit harsh with a colleague at work and I just wanted to apologize and make sure things were okay."

"All is well now?"

"Hopefully," I give her a weak smile.

"Good," she bends down to give me a kiss then guide us back upstairs.

Even though I my mind seems to have considerably slow down enough for me to find some rest, I can't completely shake the feeling that something wrong is going on with Sara.

Hopefully, I'm just getting worked up for nothing.

* * *

**And that's it for now, but I should be back next week (for real this time) since I'm already halfway through the next chapter.**

**Thanks for reading.**


	8. Chapter 8

**And true to my words, I am back with more. Thank you very much for your kind reviews.**

**Enjoy,**

**So ;)**

**Ps: **Immi** as always thank you**

* * *

**Chapter 8**

_**Adam's POV**_

The door in front of me opens a mere minute after I rang the bell. A man in his fifty opens the door, he's surprised to see me but just steps aside to let me in.

"Can I offer something to drink?"

"No thank you, Artie," I refuse.

Arthur Montgomery is my mentor. I met him during my residency in psychiatry and he's taught me everything I know and has become a precious friend with time.

"The last time you came here unannounced was four years ago…"

"A week after Annabeth's funerals," I finish.

"Indeed. How are you?"

"I'm fine, all things considered."

"And how are my four favorite trouble makers?" he asks about Finley, Thaddeus, Keenan and Charlie – my children, well they are teenagers now on the edge of young adulthood.

"Grounded as of today, but otherwise they are doing quite fine, they're finally starting to get their marks again."

He chuckles at my answer then goes to seat down in an armchair that looks like the twin of the one I have in my own office.

"So to what do I owe your visit?" he continues. "We both know that when you come here unannounced it is seldom for a social call."

"Patient, as usual," I give him a tight smile. "I need some perspective."

He waits for me to take a sit on the couch that is facing him. "Talk to me," he simply declares.

I'm used to work side by side with him and each time I felt like I needed a professional advice he's always been my first call, and he has never failed me as a mentor.

"I've been treating patient X for almost three years now. X grew up in an abusive environment, as a result they have a problem with any form of authority. They are in constant control of their emotions, because for them the loss of control implies violence; X has developed destructive habits since early teenage years, i.e. cutting, any form of self harm. As an adult, X has learnt to channel those habits into something healthy and positive, like sports, but in case of extreme emotional distress they embrace their bad habits again."

I give Arthur a moment to process all those information. "Go on."

"Two years ago they faced one of the most dramatic events, self preservation lead to denial; that bubble of denial has been slowly punctured for the past months, yesterday was exactly the two years mark and the awakening has been… brutal."

Arthur frowns. "I assume X gave into their destructive habits."

I rub my forehead. "Yeah they did and they came to me."

Arthur waits for me to continue, however when I don't say anything for a whole minute he takes the lead again. "What's the problem?"

"I…" I clear my throat. "I'm questioning whether I'm a help or and hindrance to the process of X's recovery."

I stand up, I go to one bookshelf and take one the bouncing balls made out of rubber bands that is there, I return to the couch and lie down, throwing the ball in the air and catching it back.

It's something I like to do when I need to clear my head. I like to think about the balls as the parasite thoughts in my head clouding my mind, I throw each one of them out so I can get a clear vision of my ideas.

"How so?" Arthur keeps on tracks.

"I'm questioning my judgment."

I keep throwing the ball regularly. "I knew X was about to break down, I knew they'd most likely hurt themselves and I didn't do anything," I switch hand with the ball.

"X is an adult, unless they are in a facility we unfortunately can't shadow our patient 24/7. You made a choice taking all the facts about X in account, with a rational mind. You can't blame yourself for the things that aren't in your control," Arthur reflects.

I keep throwing the ball for a few minutes then I suddenly stop. "I don't know what to do Artie," I admit. After five throws I stop.

There's a long silence before asks his next question "Have you crossed the line with X?"

"No," I reply honestly.

I did cross a line with Sara but I was never physically intimate with her nor do I have feelings for her. So the sacred line Arthur is referring to is safe.

"Adam," he pushes sensing that there's more.

I stop the ball and stare at the ceiling for a moment. "I stepped on a line and allow myself to comfort them on three occasions," I elaborate. "Each times was when they reached their breaking point. The process was too violent for them to handle and they were in extreme distress," I explain. "It's unprofessional, I know. I also know that you disapprove but I stand by my choices."

"Then, what is it?" he moves on not needing to gives me an earful about my behaviour since he knows I'm well aware of my mistake.

"They are… they're like a Jesse, I think."

I sit up and face him again. I play with the ball in my hand "We must be detached and objective, but it doesn't matter how used to it we are or how much experience we have for the job…" I bounce the ball once. "There are patients and then there are the… Jesses…" I declare.

"They affect you," Arthur states with understanding.

"Yes."

I've had patients after patients, yet I can count on one hand the cases that marked me the most. Jesse Moran was one of them. It was one of the first cases Arthur trusted me to work on my own. I first met Jesse when he was a teenager, in many ways Sara reminds me of him. Except that Jesse had no grasp whatsoever on his emotions and was enable to control his constant rage so he was often violent with others and with himself. Every step in the right direction was draining for me and painful too.

Working with Jesse affected me so deeply that it felt like an iron fist was clenched around my guts and pulling every time I tried to distance myself from everything. And though in the end Jesse had a breakthrough and could finally start working on growing up and building healthy ground around him, I found myself wondering for the first time if I had the backbone it takes for this job or not.

"We must be in control of our own emotions and shut them down completely, but even the best experience doesn't stop you from being human. We're getting inside people's head, it's normal that from time to time they get under our skin."

"I know."

I lie down again and throw the ball in the air. "Have you considered redirecting X to someone else?"

"I have. It's not an option though. They have had a parade of shrinks before me. They know all the tricks in the book, they have an endless defensive arsenal, and they can build walls with faces so high they make the Great Wall of China look like a joke."

"They get to you, I can understand that, but I don't see why you're questioning your judgment. They did come to you when they were losing their grip. If anything it goes to show that your judgement was accurate."

"They cut themselves."

"But they came to you nonetheless."

I sigh and stand up to put the rubber ball back to where it belongs. I go back on the couch.

"There's something you're not telling me."

I have an intake of breath as if I was about to say something but words fail me.

"Adam?"

I close my fist and sigh heavily. "They gave in a few times during all the years I've been treating them. They came to me before cutting themselves or after."

Arthur finally picks up on what's been bothering me. "What was different this time?" he asked with a frown.

"They came… during their cutting," I clear my throat. "I had to patch them up," I explain more clearly.

I exhale and hide my face into my hands. I've been fighting this thought all night when I looked after Sara, I've been looking at it under every angle and I know that I can't deny what happened.

Self harm is an intricate habit to understand. The first thing to understand about it is the fact that it is a completely psychological issue. The logic behind it is displacement.

"You don't think it was about control, do you?" Arthur states.

"I'm 99 per cent sure it wasn't," I confirm.

First there's a frustration because one is not to be able to identify the roots of their emotions or issues. They feel something intense that puts them into distress but cannot explain why nor can they control it. There's a displacement of this feeling by turning it into physical pain. When one hurts themselves they can rationalize it all, 'I'm hurting because I'm bleeding', better yet 'I'm in charge of it all for I can increase the pain or reduce it'.

There's a relief coming from that distorted rationalisation process. That relief is coupled with a perverse adrenaline rush, perverse because it gives them a 'feel good' sensation so that pain turns into a positive in a brand new equation: 'when I feel bad, pain makes me feel good'. Thus begin a viscous circle where pain becomes a new panacea, and before they know it they develop an addiction to their new 'remedy'.

Of course, there is a catch. Since they never work on finding the true core of the problem, they keep increasing the pain they inflict to themselves until it gets to the point where it is ineffective, this leads to frustration which brings them back to square one. The difference is that pain is now a negative, yet they keep putting up with it for one simple reason: it's the only thing that makes sense.

As soon as they learn to identify their emotions properly the need for pain decreases and they are able to find healthier ways to handle everything.

Last night I know it was different for Sara because she knew exactly what the core of her problem was. I know that she wasn't rationalizing her pain, she was trying to put an end to it. I also know that her realizing that much is why she came to me in the middle of things. She came to me to stop herself from committing the irreparable.

I should be watching over her still and I would have been if she hadn't left my office without any warning. In the early hours of morning something came up with Thaddeus and Charlie, I had to leave my office for two hours top, when I came back Sara was gone.

I love my kids and I promised Beth I'd never let a patient come between them and I, a promise I've never broken; early this morning Charlie – my daughter, and Thaddeus – my cadet son right before her, had a little accident, there was more fears than harm but the problem lied in the fact that the accident had occurred when they were doing something I had forbidden them to do.

Once I was sure they were okay we had a long conversation, and sure enough when I came back to my office Sara had woken up and walked away. I didn't think she would to be honest, mostly because the last time she ended up sleeping on my couch she had waited for my return. Since the situation was even worse this time I figured that she'd stay as well, once again I was wrong.

I've been cursing myself ever since. I called her at once when I realize she was gone but I was immediately redirected to her voicemail.

"Adam I've taught you everything and I know from experience that you always make the right calls," he states calmly. "I trust you to do what's in the best interest of X. I also have no doubt that if you thought your judgement was no longer based solely on objectivity and reason you'd step away in spite of eventual protest from X."

There's no doubt in his voice, Arthur is not one to beat around the bush if he thought otherwise he'd let me know without any equivocal.

"Now, let it all out once for all then focus again."

At first I frown but eventually I get what he means.

"I was scared," I admit out loud after a long silence. "I was very scared."

"Your fear was legitimate. Now it's over, so let go of it. You can't second guess yourself because you've had a human reaction. Second-guessing yourself is the root for mistakes," he reminds me. "What could have happened is irrelevant, the only thing that matters is what happened and what you have to do in order to help X work things out and get through this."

Now that I've owned up my fear, I do feel a little more level headed. Arthur is right, I came here because I kept thinking about the 'what ifs'.

I'm still worried about Sara and about the rough sessions we have ahead but I know that she has regained a little control of herself, and that why I'm here instead of turning Vegas upside down to find her. She left my office, yes, but she left a note behind her: 'I'll come back, promise'.

I trusted her words before and if anything last night as scary as it was proved me that my trust wasn't misplaced, I know I can trust her again.

"Thank you," I nod in direction of my friend and mentor, then I turn my heels and leave without another word.

**Sara's POV**

I open my eyes and for a second I feel rested and alright, but then my brain gets back on track and I immediately feel the weight of the world lowering on my chest, making it hard to breathe. Everything flows back with a vengeance and tears starts streaming down my face.

I only need a few seconds to realise that I'm alone. I know that Adam must not be too far but right now it seems like light years away.

My left arm is sore, there are bandages around it, pinkish line are visible on it as blood has been soaking through it, bile rises immediately in my throat as well as pain, suddenly I feel like the walls were closing in on me, I must not think about it, I must not think about it, I must…

I need to get out of here.

Without thinking I grab a piece of paper and scribble something on it then I go to the door and leave. I don't know what to do, I just want to stop thinking; I let my feet carry me away never stopping to think of a destination.

xxxxx

I shakily slip my keys into the locks and let myself in. It's dark, every blind is down blocking most of the sunlight, letting only a few rays filter into the room.

Even with the dim light I can see that the living room is upside down, I walk further in and go to the bedroom. The unobstructed light contrasts dramatically with the obscurity of the living room.

"I meant what I said yesterday," the hoarse voice of Greg resounds in the room.

My ribcage tightens around my lungs immediately. I open my mouth to say something but nothing comes out except a shaky breath.

He's hunched on one side of the bed, facing his window, his back to the door. I didn't want to give him a chance to leave me behind the door so I used my set of keys to enter.

"I didn't…" I say with a weak voice.

There's a long silence, he doesn't move or give any sign that he heard me. I fail to find the proper words to reach out to him and the longer the silence the worse I feel.

"You hurt me, you know," his voice is void of reproach, it's a simple statement.

"I wish there was a way to take it back but there isn't," it's hard for me to speak since a golf ball has lodged itself in my throat. "There are no excuses for what I've said, but… please I'm begging you… I'm begging you…not to give up on me, I'm begging you to find it in you to forgive me… please…" I choke a little starting to cry again. "I won't survive losing you as well…" I choke.

I move closer and climb onto the bed, crossing the distance between him and I, I sit right behind him and wrap my arms around his chest and hold him tightly. "I'm truly sorry… please don't give up on me."

He moves for the first time, brushing his finger tips against the hem of the bandages covering my left arm. "Moon…" he calls in a apologetic sigh.

I hold him tighter to me. That name is enough to let me know that even if things are screwed up and far from being sorted, we are alright. He puts his hands over my arms and hold onto me as tightly as I'm holding onto him.

There's a silence, then he hiccups, his body starts trembling and soon I feel warm tears wetting my skin. For the first time he breaks down in front of me, my tears run free as well, but we hang onto each other drowning into our unbearable grief.

**Adam's POV**

My talk with Arthur helped me admitting my fear and I have since regain my composure. I've returned to my office right after leaving Arthur, waiting patiently; I put Sara's note on the table next to me so that I could see it if I ever my trust in Sara's words was starting to waver.

Hours have been dragging on and on, I've been silently bouncing a ball against the wall for the past hour to settle my mind first and just for the sake of doing something.

There's a knock on the door, my relief last all but two seconds as I realise that it came from the door separating my office from the rest of my house and not the one giving on the outside.

"Come in," I invite whoever's on the other side, securing the bouncing ball in my hand.

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"I brought you something to eat," my eldest son informs me before walking to the table next to my armchair putting down the plate he's holding on it. "I figured that you might stay the night here."

"Thank you."

He starts to rub his hands nervously onto his thigh. I know that the sandwich he just brought me was just an excuse, there's everything I need in my office. I also have a fair idea of what the cause of his nervousness is, but I don't push him, giving him the choice whether or not to talk about it.

"I think I'm going to go to bed early, so I tell you goodnight," he states.

"Goodnight, son," I grin softly at him.

He goes to the door but then stops himself before crossing the threshold. He turns around and looks at me with a guilt painted all over his face.

"Actually, I wanted to present you my apologies," he says hesitantly. "I knew what Thad and Charlie were up to…" he swallows nervously. "…because I drove them to their thing."

He forces himself to hold my gaze. "I should have talked them out of it but… I chose to wear my 'cool older brother' cap rather than the 'reasonable older brother' one," he clears his throat. "That was very stupid and… it could have ended much worse than them having a few cuts and bruises and broken bikes."

He takes a deep breath, becoming steadier as he goes on. "I apologize for betraying your trust, I apologize for not setting a good example, I apologize for not being as reliable as I should be."

"Apologies accepted," I said after a few seconds of silence.

He nods, feeling slightly relieved, but I know that he'll still have to deal with his guilt for a little while. "Like for Thad and Charlie, I'll let you know when I find the appropriate sentence, in the meantime you're all grounded."

"Okay," he acquiesces. "I'll go to bed now. Goodnight, Dad."

"Fin," I hold him back before he can leave the room. I wait for him to look at me to continue. "Thank you, I appreciate your honesty."

"Sure," he grins sadly then retreats to his bedroom.

xxxxx

It's a quarter to midnight when I open the front door of my office on a fragile looking Sara, she's hunched so much it's like she was trying to shrink herself. Reflexively I look down for any sign of immediate harm but see none. She looks at me apprehensively, before she gets a chance to speak I step aside.

Her face is so grim that it seems like she had aged a few years over night. She sits down on my couch, unfocused and having apparent difficulties to breathe.

She rubs the ball of her left hand on her forehead, her face contorted in a grimace. "I need help… I need help because I can't handle feeling this way, and I know that solution I'm thinking about isn't the good one…" she glances at me nervously to make sure that I hear the rest of her silent statement, and I do. "I need help…" she wails, burying her face into her hands.

I stand from my armchair and go to sit on the coffee table so I'm right in front of her.

Every patient is unique, nothing groundbreaking in that statement, but I know that if I'd have never allowed myself to step on a line with any other patient, had it happened I'd have redirect them immediately to someone else.

Yet when it comes to Sara, I have, in essence come to terms with the fact that I've broken the rules of professionalism on several occasions. I've thought a lot about what Sara had said several months back on the matter, that what mattered was the fact that it was working for her.

For some reason I'm in, and it's not because the ones before me weren't good enough, it's because Sara allowed me through her defences. Maybe it's because from our very first meeting three years ago we agreed to established a 'no bullshit, no beating around the bush' rule, maybe that's what led her to trust me.

I understand now what I had failed to see before, Sara allowed me to bend the rules and step on the line of our dynamic. It is, in a way, a translation of the trust between us; what's more it is comforting her in the idea that her choice to let her guard down wasn't bad and that is why it works for her.

I've spent a lot of time weighing the idea of having her committed at least for a short period of time, because I think she is a danger to herself, and she has just confirmed that a second ago. I've put this idea aside because it seemed to me that it might do more damage than good to her, and now that she's here I finally know what I have to do.

Choosing to put her in a facility, would be like waking away. If there was ever a worse time to walk away from a patient, now would be it. I now know with certainty that all Sara needs right at this moment is for me to be the safeguard she has once compared me to.

"There's a man who fell into a deep hole, and try as he might, he can't get out of it," I start calmly. Sara raises her head to look at me, her eyes humid with unshed tears. I keep on with my story once I have her attention.

"A priest walks by and the man asks 'Father, I need some help', the priest says a couple of prayers, blesses the man then walks away. A doctors walks by and the man asks 'Doc, I need some help', the doctor writes a prescription and throw it down with a bottle of pills before walking away. The man is now asking desperately 'Please, somebody help me', a stranger walks by and without hesitation jumps into the hole. The man says 'Why did you do that for? Now the two of us are stuck, you idiot'. The stranger puts a hand on the man's shoulder and says 'It's okay, I've been there before so I know the way out, you're not alone now'."

There's a silence during which I can see her trying to get the point of my story. I raise a hand and rest it on one of her shoulders; she looks at my hand then back at me, her lips quivers in an attempted smile, a mix of disbelief and gratitude painted on her features. "You're not alone Sara, because I'm not going anywhere."

The words barely leave my mouth that her tears double, she nods and then grips my hand tightly forbidding me to let go, a strangled and weak 'thank you' fights its way through her sobs as she breaks down once more.

It's not about bending the rules, it's about understanding why they need – when the circumstances call for it – to be bent.

* * *

**There's another version of Adam's story where it's a friend of the man who jumps in the hole. The moral stays the same nonetheless, your true friends will always stuck by you during your darkest hours, or whoever stands by you in your worst moments will prove themselves to be your true friend.**

**Thanks for reading.**


	9. Chapter 9

**And I'm back with a new chap. Thank you for the reviews, you guys rock! Ok, so this is slightly darker than what I had in mind, but it works so I went with it.**

**Enjoy,**

**So ;)**

**ps**: Ellie** j'aime savoir que Greg et Sara ont ta sympathie, vu qu'apparemment personne à part moi ne supporte leur tandem. Cela dit je prends la défense de Cath (une fois n'est pas coutume), elle se préserve sans pour autant être en mode hystérique,et puis elle n'a pas toutes les infos. **

Immi**, as always thank you for helping me seeing through the fog of my ideas.**

* * *

**Chapter 9**

_Cath's POV_

I kiss Emily's shoulder and pull her a little more against me. "I love the contrast of your skin against mine," I declare, kissing her smooth, rich ebony skin again.

She chortles softly. "That's a good thing," she brings our entwined hands to her lips and kisses my fingertips softly. "Have you managed to see if you could get three days off?"

"I did ask for it, I'm still waiting for Grissom to get back to me. But I think it will be okay."

"Great," though I can see her face I know she's smiling. "I really think we could have a good time at the cabin. It'll be sunny, there's a lake to swim, a great path for biking or long walks… it's really nice."

"It does sound like it."

She turns around in my arms to face me, without warning she captures my lips with her own in a warm kiss. She sighed contently when she pulls back. "I feel good with you, Cath," she smiles.

"I feel good with you, too," I mirror her expression.

She leans in for another kiss and this time I can feel desire being reignite in the pit of my stomach. I pull her closer and start discovering her body once more.

xxxxx

"Someone's glowing today," Warrick greets me with a wide grin.

"Why thank you my friend, I do feel extremely good."

"I'll have two of your pills then."

"I don't think so mister, you better keep your hands of my girl," I narrow my eyes with a mock threat.

"Oh, that's what it is, eh?"

"Uh-huh."

"I supposed you had a long week-end of fun then."

"Correct, and that's all the details you shall get. Now, word's around we're all working together tonight."

"Yeah, explosion in an office building, several casualties," he puts me up to speed.

"There goes my good mood," I reply grimly.

During the briefing Grissom updates us on what has been done so far and how we're going to organize ourselves. Sara asks a question attracting my attention on her, she asks about the safety measures that we have to take, then Grissom takes over again.

I find myself glancing at Sara several times, her left elbow is propped up on the table and she's massaging her left temple slowly. It seems to me like she hasn't slept properly in a while; I'd even say that it looks like she had lost a few pounds. I'm surely just imagining things; the incident where she didn't show at work two weeks ago is still fresh in my mind. We haven't talked about it, she didn't call me back, in fact she just came back to work two days later never mentioning my calls, or coming to me for anything.

I'll have to admit that a part of me was hurt, but I can't expect a 'well done' tap in the back every time I decide to be reasonable. At least we didn't fight, I took that as a good sign. I had several court appointments so I wasn't around much. Today is the first time, in a quite a while that we are in the same room for more than a minute, the first time I get to observe her, so maybe she has been like this for a while but I'm just noticing.

Besides, since I'm happy lately everyone seems to have haunting look on their face in comparison. I mean, Greg doesn't look any better than Sara; Warrick is, well, he's his usual chilled self; as for Nick he doesn't look cheerful, at least compared to me.

Grissom gives a stack of papers to Nick and asks him to pass it on, when Sara holds her hand out something catches me eyes, but it's so brief that I think for a moment that it wasn't there. When she props her elbow arm back up to its original position her sleeves rides slightly down and I see it again, some sort of white fabric wrapped tightly around her skin, like the hem of a bandage.

My glance lingers on it, for a moment I completely forget about Sara's ability to know when she's watched. I'm surprised when she looks up at me suddenly with a questioning frown on her face, I immediately feel like a deer caught in headlights and I'm not quick enough to look away, because she has time to follow my gaze; her left arm immediately disappears under the table, hiding to my sight and I don't think I imagine her stiffening and trying hard not to look… ashamed? Panicked?

What's going on here?

xxxxx

Sara's exit from the conference room was as close from a run as could be with actually running. The next thing I knew she wasn't in the same car as me and once on the field she did everything she could not to be teamed up with me. After that I had to put her in the back of my mind for the crime scene was my priority.

I kept a close watch on her, almost to check that she was fit to work and knowing what she was doing, I think she noticed and the other hint that something wrong was going on is the fact that she didn't snap at me for watching over her like she was a rookie.

The scene was horrendous, the body count became heavier as our shift progressed and even though we are used to face death as a daily recurrence, tonight I saw things I wish I never had. The trouble with working on a site that has been destroyed by and explosion or a fire is the fact that no matter how careful we are we do damage some evidence just by being there.

The gruesomeness of our scene kept me busy so much that by the time we were finally back to the lab, I had almost completely forgotten about Sara.

Now that the boys have gone to get something for us to eat together I thought that I'd go to the locker room to have a moment to myself. Inside my locker there are two pictures of Lindsey and I, there's lucky charm pendant she made me – I promised her I'd always touch it before going to the field and once I'd get back, there's a tiny stuffed animal she once forgot some remote day ago when she was younger; those things remind me that I have good things in my life, those things keep me grounded, something I desperately need to feel right at this moment.

I'm in luck because no one is in the locker room when I come in. I open my locker and breathe in deep in relief, I kiss my fingertips and then touch the lucky charm – my own little ritual, I look at Lindsey beaming back at me from her picture, I close my eyes and take a moment to let warmth coming back to my body.

I take a few deep breaths then close my locker, my nerves steeled again, ready to face the world. I come across Warrick in the halls, he tells me that they are back with food and that Greg, Nick and him are setting it all in the break room; he asks me to warn Sara, saying that she should still be at the morgue.

I don't protest because inwardly I'm glad to have the opportunity to be alone with Sara for a minute. I don't know what I'll say to her, but I need to assuage that nagging feeling I have about her that something is wrong.

That band I saw on her arm could have been anything, yet my first thought was that she had hurt herself. Before therapy I thought I knew what Sara was like when she was upset, but therapy showed me that even at her worse with me she was always some tamed version of herself.

Now I know that she has the tendency to hurt herself when she's upset. On a good day she'll only punch a wall and that'll be it, on a bad day…

I shudder just to think about it.

I've seen her being truly upset. It was scary, the depth of her gaze, like a bottomless abyss that sucked everything in, leaving nothing but uncontrollable anger and extreme violence. Yet, the outlet I fear the most is her cutting. She once admitted that she would cut herself when she was very upset. I've seen her forearm being banded afterward, I've seen her scars when we were intimate, I've never told her anything but this is the one thing about her that chilled me to the bone.

I shake my head as the ring of the elevator brings me out of my thoughts, maybe it's nothing, maybe she sprang her wrist or something, I'm just jumping to the worse easily.

I open one of the morgues and see no one inside, I go to the other room and swing one of the doors and find myself into an equally empty room. I guess she must have gone back up and we crossed paths. I'm about to walk away when I notice the light filtering through the door of the office that is at the back of the room.

I decide to go and ask David, maybe he'll know where Sara is, or maybe they're still discussing one thing or another. I'm about to announce my presence when a sound makes me frown, something like a hiss. The door is ajar and I can see Sara sitting at the desk, her left arm is on the table and she's wincing.

I push the door without any warning and she immediately puts her left arm out of sight. I stare at her blankly not really taking anything in, I'm aware of my heart pounding my chest. I think I want to yell at her but I can't find my voice.

"Did you want something?" she breaks the silence.

I need a full minute to get over my brain fart. When my brain cells are firing again I finally take notice of the first aid kit on the table.

"I came to tell you that the boys were back with lunch," I hear my voice like a distant echo.

"I'll be there in five minutes."

I acquiesce numbly and turn my heels. What am I doing? Facing the door bring sense back into me. I close the door and lock us in. I turn back to Sara.

"I said I'd be there in five minutes," she repeats sharply.

I ignore her, take a chair and sit in front of her, I grab a pair of gloves from the table and put them on without a word. I hold out my hand to her and wait. She stares at me with defiance, I stare back resolved not to look away. When she doesn't give me her arm I reach out for it.

She tries to escape my grip, then she resists when I pull on her arm. I tighten my grip on around her wrist and pull even harder. We are suddenly frozen in motion, our eyes glue together, I'm staring at the abyss and for a second there I'm afraid that she might be physically violent. I don't flinch though; I can see her slowly composing herself again, her reason slowly coming back to the surface; her anger turns into weakness and shame.

She looks away as her arm relaxes under my grip. She surrenders knowing that I won't lose that battle. I don't loosen my grip, not wanting to give her a chance to escape. She turns her head away, refusing to meet my gaze, I just focus on her arm.

I don't think that hitting walls is healthy, but I'd take that over her self mutilation any day. The sight of her flesh marred with red lines – some of which are bleeding a bit, is hard to sustain. I've seen worse on bodies, but that's just it, they were bodies, cold, stiff, lifeless; it's different to see it on someone who's breathing. Upon reflexion, I don't think the problem comes from the injury itself, no what makes it so hard to stand is the knowledge that it was self inflicted.

The worse part is that I know for a fact that for her cutting is the ultimate resort, cutting means that whatever is bothering her is deep, it means that hitting a wall wasn't enough, she confessed that herself once, the first time I was aware of that habit of her, when she came back from California. It takes all my will to keep my emotions in check, and fight back the sudden nausea.

"What happened?" I ask softly after a long silence. I glance at her but she's obstinately looking away. I throw away a first used cotton ball, take another one and damp it with antiseptic solution; even though I'm wearing gloves the liquid feels icy through cotton. I run it delicately against Sara's flesh, I can see that though every cut is still healing some are not as recent as the ones I'm cleaning, meaning that this has been going on for a moment.

"I wish you'd talk to me," I keep on.

I want to shake her senseless, I want to make her react, to have her being silent right now is driving me insane.

"I cut myself," her voice is a mere whisper.

I sigh. I don't need her to tell me the obvious. "Talk to me," I persist and I think she heard me loud and clear. "Please," I add.

"I was upset," she shrugs.

"Don't do that," I plea, but hold myself back from losing my temper. "I'm trying here, so please, don't push me away."

"I was upset, what else do you want me to say?"

"I want you to talk to me."

"I can't," she closes her eyes and shakes her head in a slow motion.

"You're not even trying!" I reply a bit more sharply than I intended to. "I'm here, okay? I know things aren't great between us but I'm here. Talk to me… or… I don't know, tell me what I can do to help."

"You can't help," she declares. The absence of emotions in her voice shatters the last remains of my patience.

"And this does?" I almost shout. "How? Uh?" I tilt my head to try and catch her eyes. "How does this help?" I repeat. "Look at me," I grab her chin and force her to meet my eyes. "How does this help?"

I'm breathing heavily, waves of anger crashing upon me. "You can't keep doing this! This isn't a way to deal with your issues, this is… this is unhealthy! Damn it, it's not a solu…"

"I don't need this…" she groans as she twists her arm out of my grip and within a second she's at the door. I react quickly and block her way out. I'm about to reach out for her but she recoils and raises a finger to keep me a way. "Don't," she utters sharply.

Her stare is dark and cold and I know I'm treading on ice at this moment. I instinctively put my hands up in surrender. "I'm sorry," I speak in haste. "I'm sorry, alright? I shouldn't have snapped, I didn't mean to upset you. Please sit down and let me finish the bandage."

She tries to open the door but I stand in her way. "Please, Sara, please let me finish, I'll shut up, just let me finish. I'm sorry," I repeat in a much softer tone.

The next thirty seconds feel like an hour, against odds Sara reluctantly goes back to her chair. I hold back a sigh of relief, this is a meaningless victory considering the whole picture.

I finish disinfecting her cuts and start bandaging her forearm. I don't dare saying anything else, not wanting to antagonize her more than she already is. I blew my only chance to be there for her; I've always been terrible at reaching out for Sara, at being there for her, at offering her a hand; not that she ever made it easy.

"I know you don't understand," her voice seems distant, almost as if it belonged to someone else. "I know I'm in a bad place, I know this isn't right," she speaks with her eyes fixed on her arm. "But it keeps me grounded…" her voice is even fainter. "And I really don't need you judging me right now."

I close my eyes and clench my jaw tightly, I force myself to count to ten before replying. I hook a finger under her chin and for the second time bring her eyes on mine. "This _isn't_ me judging you," I pause so she can take this statement in. "This is me _caring_ about you."

I can't say if my clarification makes any difference because I can't read her expression. "It doesn't matter how bad things are between us, I care, and I can't bear the idea of you hurting yourself," I confess.

Once I'm sure my words sank in I finish her bandage then discard everything I used in the biohazard trash bin. "Come on, the guys are going to wonder where we are," I stand up and go to the door.

"Thank you."

When I look at her she hasn't moved from an inch, still staring at her arm. I'm not even sure that she actually spoke, for all I know I could have fantasised those last words. She turns her head a bit in my direction but doesn't look up. "For the bandage… thank you," this time her voice is louder.

"Sure," I nod. I unlock the door and walk away knowing full well that I won't get anything more from her.

xxxxx

"_Hey beautiful,_" the warm tone of Emily's voice fills my ear.

"Hey, how are you doing?"

"_I'm alright. Is everything okay? You have a small voice_"

"Yeah don't worry," I reply with a firmer voice. Emily is good at picking up my moods and I really don't want to face more questions right now. "I just wanted to let you know that I had an errand to run, so don't worry, I'll come later than intended."

"_Sure, thanks for calling._"

"No problem, I think I'll be done in 30 minutes, an hour top."

"_Alright, be safe. See you later babe_"

"Later."

As soon as my phone is back in my pocket, I fasten my seatbelt and drive away from the lab. I'm glad there's almost no traffic allowing me to reach my destination as quickly as possible.

I drum on the door of Adam's office, I reach my phone and start dialling his number but the door finally opens. He looks like he just woke up.

"Bad time?" I ask. He barely starts to shake his head in answer "No? Good," I make my way in. I wait for him to close the door before going on. "Don't say anything, I'm not here because I need to talk to you… about what I feel that is. I'm here because I don't know what else to do, and this is the only thing I could think of that would not break her confidence or make things worse so she'd fall over the edge."

"Don't talk," I repeat holding a finger up to silence him. "By 'her' I mean Sara," I elaborate. "Please don't say anything. I know you can't tell me whether or not you're seeing her because of professional confidentiality, I'm here because you've seen it yourself. You know how she gets when she's upset, how she will hurt herself without any notion of limits."

I suddenly stop, once more overcome with doubt. I don't have any other choice I repeat to myself, she didn't leave me any choice.

"She's hurting herself alright, she's… cutting herself, and it's been going on for a little moment, I know that because I cleaned her forearm yesterday and she didn't deny anything. She needs help, she _needs_ it. I reached out and she pushed me away, she won't let me be there and there's only so much I can do even with her protest. I intend to protect her the way I can, to do everything I can on my end and that mostly means just making sure that she's still breathing one day after another. But you… you can… you can help her more than I can because somehow she listens to you, you make it through…"

I pass a hand in my hair. "Don't tell me about ethics and lines and what not, just do something. I came here to tell you so you'd have the obligation to do something, it would be a crime for you not to because you know her history," I close my eyes and take a second to order my thoughts again.

"I don't care if I can't ask you that, I don't care if I'm crossing some limits here. I know it's the right thing to do… the only thing to do," I speak with a voice that leaves no room for argument. "I'm going to walk out of here and we're going to pretend this conversation never happened and that whatever you're thinking right now came from the depth of your own mind."

I finish and storm out as fast as I came in, not wanting to give him time to say anything.

* * *

**Thanks for reading**


	10. Chapter 10

**Howdy everyone. I know, I know, it takes me ages to update, but I'm making it up to you with an extra long chap. **

**Enjoy,**

**So ;)**

**Ps: **Immi** thanks for helping me see the light and keeping Mojo on a leach.**

Ellie**,** **celui là est pour toi, pour te redonner foi en Catherine ;)**

* * *

**Chapter 10**

_Sara's POV_

"I haven't cut myself in three days," I confess to Adam. "I can't hardly call that progress because I'm still in that place where cutting is a need as opposed to a punctual, effective release."

I've been seeing Adam so much lately that his office could be my second home for all I know.

"Catherine found out about my cutting four weeks ago. I was changing my bandages and she walked in on me."

Honestly I normally wouldn't have been changing my bandages at work, I know better, but the wounds opened a bit when I was on the field and I had to do something about it. I was pissed that she was there, but I think it'd have been worse if someone else had.

"After that day… I smarten up and used my thighs," I admit.

Adam knows that I've been giving into my habit, He has been monitoring me ever since my break down, but he hasn't stopped me. I think he has a good understanding of what it all means, and as long as I'm talking about it openly he tolerates it, at least for now.

"I was livid that she found out. I was mad at her for confronting me about it. So when I got home… it was hard to stop myself that day," I swallow with difficulty. "In a way, her knowing led me to today. I haven't stopped for her, I have been restraining myself because she knows and it's unnerving."

I pass a hand over my tired face. "She's been chaperoning me… discretely," I roll my eyes. "And I've been pretending not to notice."

"Why?"

"So I wouldn't have to talk to her."

There's a long silence, either Adam is waiting so see if I have more to say or carefully choosing his next words.

"I don't want to talk to her…" the words get stuck in my throat. "About…about…" I struggle several seconds, unwilling tears gather at the corners of my eyes. "Reese's death…" I lose it an immediately cover my eyes. "I'm sorry."

Adam doesn't say anything and just gives me the time I need to compose myself again. "It… doesn't concern her… it's between Greg and…" the more I speak the more I get upset, Soon breathing is challenged by uncontrollable sobs.

It's a wonder to me that I still can cry because it seems like it's the only thing I do ever since my big fight with Greg. I cry every time I'm in Adam's office, which means almost everyday. I try to talk to him, I know that denial is no longer an option, but the mere mention of Reese sends me into a whirlwind of anguish, the pain that I manage to numb by distracted myself with work or anything else just comes back tenfold and I start wishing I could die to make this all stop.

Just like he always does, Adam waits patiently, gauging me to know whether we should go on with today's session or if it's enough.

"I'm sorry," I apologize again unnecessarily. I erase my tears and breathe in deeply.

"Do you want to stop for today?" he asks.

I shake my head. "No."

I stand up and start pacing. "I think about it all the time… I think about Reese all the time," I choke slightly but keep my emotions in check. "It's like being stuck in quicksand, because the more I struggle to deal with it and the more I'm sinking to the bottom. How am I supposed to deal with this when the thought of it alone makes me choke?" once again my emotions overwhelm me.

I hear Adam moving around, leaving the room for a moment then coming back. When I look up I see Adam moving the coffee table and pushing his armchair against the wall behind it, now there's a large empty space in front of me. He sits down Indian styles next to a large box. I watch him taking little plastic rectangles out of the box and starting to line them up in a strange pattern.

"You uh…let me know if I'm boring you," I declare flatly. I am flabbergasted at his behaviour, usually he occupies himself before I start to speak but he has never shifted his attention from me like he's doing right now in the middle of a session.

"Do you know what domino day is?" he queries as if I hadn't spoken at all, or as if his behaviour was not out of the ordinary.

I pinch the bridge of my nose as if to stop an incoming migraine. I'm livid, I know I am but my surprise is overriding my anger. Seeing Adam regularly offers me some stability but if even he starts to pulls the rug from under my feet… I'm screwed.

"So?" he speaks again. "Do you know what domino day is?"

"No."

"Every year people gather in a big empty warehouse, and people line up dominos for a month or more. Millions of dominos are set to make gigantic fresco around a theme, then on D-day we set them off and watch the pictures coming to life and hoping to beat the record," he explains.

"You're such a dork."

"Are you honestly telling me that this comes as a surprise to you?" he frowns.

I tilt my head but don't respond as I can't argue that point. "Why are we talking about domino day again?"

"Come sit down next to me and give me a hand." I look at him in disbelief. "Can you grab me a bottle of milk in the fridge on your way, please?"

"Are you kidding me?" I snort when I don't get any reply. "Sure, do you want me to bring you something to eat while I'm at it?" my voice is dripping with sarcasm.

"I don't mind some biscuits, there are some in the cupboard next to the fridge," he informs me not taking his eyes away from the dominos he's placing in front of him.

"Unbelievable," I mutter still looking at him. "Freaking unbelievable," I shake my head as I stand and do as told.

Two minutes later I'm sitting cross-legged next to Adam. He gives me silent instruction and we keep positioning dominos. "I have a friend who was working with the organisation committee in Netherland back in 2002, so I was able to participate even though I was not European. We broke the world record. It was quite the head rush," he beams still working on his dominos. "They reward us with beautiful sets at the end."

"Fascinating," I roll my eyes, then silence falls upon us.

Adam is calm, positioning dominos with an expert, steady hand. After an hour or so there are about a hundred dominos on the floor. I have to admit that in an odd way it relaxes me, having to put all my focus on placing the dominos where Adam wants them, at the same time being careful that I don't knock the ones that are already standing.

Adam stands up and gets out from my peripheral vision. I'm about to put another domino down when suddenly a ball comes crashing in the center of the dominos creating a chain reaction, destroying everything we've done. The fallen dominos make a yellow smiley face – or at least half of it, with behind it a purple stain as if it had been splashed on.

I turn around and see Adam staring at me with a questioning look. "What the hell is wrong with you?!" I explode, standing up. "Why did you do that for?" I look again at the crash site and throw the domino I was holding with frustration. "Damn it!"

He walks back to my side, ignoring my outburst, his eyes trained on the now fallen dominos. "That's the most beautiful thing about dominos, and incidentally it's the most annoying," he states. "They're all connected. Something big and unexpected happens and everything crumbles down in the blink of an eye. The ball only landed on two dominos, yet look at how many dominos fell as collateral damages."

I stare at him. Of course, I should have known that his twisted mind hadn't been sidetracked.

"Let me guess, Greg and I are the two dominos under the ball, right."

He looks at me with light frown. "This isn't the Matrix, Sara. The dominos are just dominos and the rubber band ball is just a rubber band ball."

I narrow my eyes at him. Right, I'm going to believe that the dominos are absolutely not a metaphor about my life. "If we were in the Matrix the correct reply would have been 'There are no dominos, Sara'," I imitate his voice which earns me a reprobating glare. "Come to think about it, you've just missed a great opportunity to be a smartass."

"No I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

"No I didn't," he insists.

"Yes, you did…"

"I brought up Matrix on my own…"

"You had an awesome reply at your reach and miss…"

"I didn't miss!" we're talking at the same time.

"Come on it was weak, you got me used to better… that was an easy one."

He stares at me, for a split second he looks like he's about to reply pettily but he just sighs. "Can we get back to the dominos?"

"Sure," I shrug.

"When dominos crumble down unexpectedly, what you want to do first is to find the source of the problem," he picks up his rubber band ball and show it to me. "The next thing is damage control, you need to account for all the fallen dominos. It's not just about the dominos that were hit by the ball it's also about the ones that fell indirectly because of it. That's a tedious part because the damages from the ball can go quite far, but you need to keep in mind that it is all connected."

If I follow his logic, then my relationship with Cath has also been corrupted by the loss of my daughter. I've never consider it to be the case, considering that except for Greg and I's respective family no one knows about Reese.

I know I've had a hard time with Greg and even my brothers and sister, but I never considered the rest of the world in my equation.

"Now the question is: how to fix it?" he goes on after a short pause. "Three options. One, you go from the core to the collateral damages; two you work from the collateral damages to the core, or three you work from both end and finish when they meet in the middle. Considering that you can't do one and not the other, the choice of the method isn't that relevant in itself; you already guessed that it'll take time and patience, that there might be a lot of frustration ahead, but then again it's to be expected."

He scrutinizes me as I'm trying to figure out his words. "The hardest thing, here, is to start," he adds before bending down to pick up a domino and offering it to me. "Just start."

I nod absentmindedly. "We are, of course, only talking about dominos."

"Of course," he agrees, his eyes filled with a glint confirming that dominos were never the topic of this discussion.

He has, in essence, told me that the only way to get through Reese's loss, is to get through Reese's loss. I've been in denial for two years, and I need to get things back on track. For that I need to grasp everything that has been affected by that event. As much as it hurts to think about it, to talk about it, there aren't other ways to deal with it, at least no other healthy way. It doesn't matter how I tackle the issue, as long as I takle it.

"I need guidance to… put the dominos back in position," I declare with a weak voice.

"Lucky you, I know my way around dominos."

I sit back down and wait for him to guide me through the process. "You have a twisted mind, you know that right?" I declare after a long silence.

"I take that as a compliment," he smirks and just focuses on the dominos again.

**Catherine's POV**

I've been coming to work with a knot in the pit of my stomach ever since I've found out that Sara was cutting herself. I went to Adam, but I don't know if he's done anything about it. I know I've been worrying myself sick, keeping a close eye on Sara, making the silliest excuses to be in the same room, to come work in her lab, or pairing us up.

Actually I didn't make any excuse I've just been planting myself wherever she was, working on my thing not explaining my presence.

Sara's not stupid, I think even her noticed that I was watching over her, but then again she's Sara, so she's taken it all the way she usually does: ignoring everything.

The only, slightly reassuring sign is the fact that she seems to have stopped cutting, because I've notice that she wasn't wearing any bandages anymore. I'm not naïve though, I know that it could also simply mean that she decided to do it somewhere more discreet.

In any case, this forced proximity is not such a bad thing, we are now on cordial terms which is a step toward forward so, I guess it's a bad for a good.

"Can you help me move those boxes to the storage room downstairs?" I ask her.

"Sure," Sara replies, then takes one box and follows me.

We move to the underground floor in silence, like so many times lately I'm consumed with the envy to initiate a conversation, but like every time the words get stuck in my throat. I wish it was as easy as saying 'hello', but it isn't, mostly because I know Sara enough to get the signs. I know when she's open to conversation – that happens so rarely that you tend to take notice of it, and when she's not; right now there's a wall between us, only the bare minimum words pass over it.

We enter the storage room and move in the far back where rows and rows of bookshelves filled with boxes full with evidences are stored by date and case.

"I'll go get the other one," Sara announces, she waits for my nod of acknowledgement before walking away.

I start checking the content of the boxes one last time to make sure everything is in place. I'm surprise to see Sara coming back after barely two minutes, and what's more she's empty-handed.

"Something's wrong?" I ask glancing at her before returning to my checking. When I don't get any answer for a whole minute I look up again with a frown. "Sara?"

"Sorry, I was just trying to think of a smooth way to tell you something."

"What's up with you?" the oddity of her statement puts me on the edge, as if bracing myself for an unexpected fight.

"Hum… we are…" she drags her words. "Stuck."

I stare at her blankly, not sure to understand what she had just said. "I beg your pardon?"

"We're stuck," she repeats calmly.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean the door, the only way out of here, won't open," now she acts as if I was intellectually slow.

I shake my head slightly. "Have you tried to pull hard on it?"

"Oh, so that's how a door works!" she says with fake awe. "Thank goodness you're here to teach me those things," her sweet grin disappears.

I just glare at her with irritation not wanting to fight with her right now. "Are you sure?"

This time I can see her make a conscious effort to bite back her reply before walking away again. I sigh and put the evidences back in the box, then follow Sara to the front door.

She leans on the wall next to the door and just watches me. I flash my badge on the electronic lock, the light turn green but try as I might the door doesn't budge.

"Maybe you should try pulling harder on it," Sara provides flatly.

I shoot her a death glare but bite my tongue. I walk to the phone which is attached to the wall opposite from the one Sara's leaning again. The line is strictly intern to the lab, we use it to avoid unnecessary trips to the evidence storage room.

I dial Grissom's extension and wait… wait… by the tenth ring I hang up and reach out for my cell and groan when I notice that I can't get a signal. "Oh come on!"

"I don't have anything either," Sara states.

That shouldn't be surprising since we are one level underground and surrounded by thick concrete walls, but still it's irritating, when you think that we can almost start a fire with our phones nowadays, getting a signal while underground should be a norm by now.

I rub my forehead and grab the phone again dialling another extension. Of course now that we need someone to answer the phone no one is near their line. Sara came next to me in order to help me with the phone extensions and in other circumstances I'd have been quite impressed by the fact that she knows so many, I do know a lot of them myself but it looks like Sara has memorised the every numbers of the lab.

After twenty minutes of search, I try again from the top.

"_Grissom_."

"Gil thanks goodness we're finally getting to someone!" I breathe out in relief and put on the speakerphone so Sara can receive the information the same time I do.

"_Catherine?_"

"Yes, Sara and I are stuck in the new storage room."

"_What do you mean stuck?_"

"We can't get out of here, the door won't open."

"_Have tried pulling hard on it?_"

Alright, now I can understand why Sara snapped earlier. The questions do sound silly. I look at Sara apologetically and she just replies with a small grin in understanding.

"Yes we did, our badges unlock it but it won't budge. Can you come and see if you can open it from the outside please?"

"_I'll be right there_."

"Thank you," I add before hanging up.

We don't have to wait long before hearing a beeping sound coming from the other side of the door indicating that someone has flashed their badge. The door shakes as if someone was trying hard to pull on it but it doesn't open.

Oh please, please let it not be…

"Guys?" the muffled voice of Grissom comes to us after five unsuccessful tries. "It seems like you're stuck."

"Yeah, thanks Captain Obvious," Sara mutters with a roll of her eyes.

"What now?" I shout a bit.

"I'm going back up to call for the maintenance service, then I'll let you know."

"Great," I sigh.

It's another twenty minutes before the phone rings, twenty minutes during which Sara and I never exchanged a single word. We went to sort the evidences we had brought but even that was made in silence.

When the phone rings Sara and I practically bounce. "Hello?" I push the speaker phone button again.

"_I called maintenance, but they can't do anything. The door and security system are the responsibility of an independent contractor. I called the Society and they can't send anyone before 6 a.m._"

There's a pause.

A _very_ long pause.

Sara and I are digesting the information fully, quietly pondering whether or not to lose our temper. "That's more than five hours from now," I breathe out calmly.

"_I know_."

My hand is holding the receiver so tightly that it's cutting my blood flow. "Thanks," I force myself to say and hang up before Grissom can say anything more.

"This is a nightmare."

Sara simply goes back to the wall she was leaning against earlier and lets herself slide on the ground, she leans her head back against the wall and closes her eyes, her arms resting over bent legs.

"Months that this freaking door has been acting up, months that we've asked to look at it, but no… and now…" I rant with a barely controlled anger.

"Five hours… fuck me swinging…" I curse. "And of course, of all people I had to be stuck here with you."

"Still not deaf," she informs me, not moving an inch.

"No, I meant… I don't mind being stuck with you…" she looks at me with curiosity.

"But?"

"You don't mind silence," she raises her eyebrow, not understanding my point. "I do."

She nods then closes her eyes again. This is exactly my point, I'm going to be stuck here with Sara in silence, it feels like a punishment to me. On the other hand I don't know what we could talk about, which is sad really. Back when we were friends, if I had told her that I didn't like silence she'd have started a conversation just to make me feel better, or she'd have sung or done something about it.

I decide to sit down against the wall opposite to her. I mimic her position and will my mind to stop spinning with all those things I wish we could say to one another.

This night is going to be long…

xxxxx

I'm hyper aware of my surrounding, the buzzing of the neon lights, my breathing, the ruffled sound of my clothes when I change position, everything.

As I had anticipated Sara doesn't seem to care about anything that is happening.

"Silence tends to make me feel claustrophobic," I confess after forty minutes silence. Sara's eyes open, she's scrutinizing me. Minutes drag on before she finally speaks.

"Who's your favourite Smurf?"

I feel my jaw drop, it's a chance that I'm already on the floor because I think I'd have literally fallen on my ass with that one. My mouth is working but no sounds come out of it, I'm experiencing the strongest brain fart I ever had.

Sara's staring at me blankly, I have no doubt that for her she's just asked the equivalent of 'what's the weather like?'. After all these years I still forget her ability to be so far out of the box that she'd pull the rug from under anyone's feet.

She arches an eyebrow when I don't reply for three full minutes.

"I don't… I… uh…I've never given it thought enough to have one."

"I like Grouchy Smurf," she has a pout of appreciation. "But I must say that my all time favourite is Weakling Smurf, especially in the album where they organize Olympics to get a kiss from the Smurfette, he was the underdog, no one would team up with him, but he won fair and square. That was kind of epic."

Who would have thought I'd hear Sara talking about the Smurfs like she was talking of quantum physics?

"So, still no favourite?" she keeps on tracks.

"I'll go with Handy Smurf," I shrug. "You know I remember buying an album called 'The Baby Smurf' to Linds, but if they are asexual beings how on Earth did they manage to have a kid, and who got it on with the Smurfette?" I enquire seriously.

"They _are_ asexual. The baby was delivered by a Stork, you know, the old fashion way, straight out of the baby factory," she smirks.

I chortle with a shake of my head. "Figures."

"Besides, the idea of one of them getting it on with the Smurfette is disturbing."

"Jealous much?" I joke.

"Please," she rolls her eyes. "I'm just saying that there's only one of her, and a lot of them…"

"Oh gross…"

"Exactly, it makes the whole thing potentially shady."

"Valid point," I agree. "Oooh I got one, if everyone in the lab was a Smurf, which one would they be?"

"Uh… good question," she nods absentmindedly. I can already hear the cogs in her head working. "Well, there's an easy one, Grissom's Papa Smurf."

I laugh "What about Nick?"

"I think he wavers from Hefty Smurf to Dreamy Smurf."

"I think he's more of a Hefty Smurf," I reply. "Now there should be a Player Smurf to fit Warrick."

She chuckles. "Good one."

"Ok, what about Greg?"

xxxxx

After turning the whole lab into a Smurfs' village, Sara revealed that she was an unconditional fan of Calvin and Hobbes and almost choke when I told her that I had never read an album, she then proceeded to sell the whole thing to me; then we moved onto books and the surprise number two came when we ended up having a detailed, heated discussion over the adventures of a certain wizard with a lightning-shaped scar.

Now after almost two hours we are back to silence again, only this time it's more comfortable than before. It's not long before my thoughts start corroding my euphoria. I still haven't found the rational explanation behind the fact that Sara and I can share great moments, simple and fun like the one we've just shared, and at the same time not being able to maintain this simplicity on a daily basis.

It's sad to realize how great things could be and how crappy we always manage to make them. That train of thoughts brings me to our lost friendship, leading me then to our disastrous relationship; my good mood turn sour, the bitter taste of my anger lingering in my mouth.

I'm starting to appreciate the situation properly. We are stuck here for a few more hours, no escape possible. It might be the best time to actually try to have a real conversation with her, who knows when I'll get the opportunity again.

"I have a serious question that I want to ask," I jump in before talking myself out of it.

"Okay…"

"It's personal."

I think she knows where I'm going, even though the signs are subtle, I can see her stiffening up. "Shoot."

"Are you still cutting yourself?"

She looks away, that invisible wall that she uses to keep people at bay starts erecting itself once more; I brace myself for disappointment and frustration. Something happens though, she turns her head back to me, holding my gaze and against all odds she gives me an answer.

"No."

I gauge her trying to decide if she's saying this just so I can leave it alone or if she's telling me the truth.

"I haven't cut myself in over two weeks," she adds in a tone barely above the whisper, probably sensing that I was questioning her truthfulness.

"Why?"

She frowns. "Why did I stop?"

"No… I meant, why did you start? You were right the other day, saying I didn't get it, I'd like to understand though."

She shrugs; I purse my lips not to let out a curse. She always cracks a door open, lets me see glimpses at the most unexpected times and then she slams the door on my face and…

"Do you remember that trip we had with Adam? The last day he made us screams at the top of our lungs. You know that pent up energy in the pit of your stomach, the powerful sense of release once we let it out?"

I simply nod. Once again she has taken me off guard by opening up instead of retreating in her shell.

"It feels the same… there's this thing building up inside me and then it's like I was stuck in a pressurized chamber. When I run the blade along my skin, it's a tiny crack to let the pressure out, for a second there's tidal wave of release, but the suffocating feeling is still there so I go on until I can't feel anything but the sting of the cuts."

I nod slowly, taking everything in. "It sounds like addiction."

"It is."

"That I do understand," I sympathize.

Silence fills the room, while I now have a better grasp at her destructive habit, there's something that has been bothering me ever since I cleaned her wounds. I want to ask because I need an answer; her wounds aside, that question is what has been keeping me up, it's the one reason that pushed me to go and raise the alarm to Adam.

I'm holding my tongue though because she has opened up to me and I really don't want to ruin that.

"What?" her brown eyes are calmly boring holes into my skull.

I open my mouth ready to launch my question but then decide against it.

She sighs. "Whatever it is you can ask."

"Why the sudden openness?" I frown. "No offence but getting you to talk is always an ordeal and suddenly you act like it was the simplest thing in the world."

It's true, every time she and I had a deep conversation it was like pulling her teeth out. Right now she's acting so out of character that I can't help but feel put off, I mean what's the catch here?

"Not much point in hiding something you already know."

I take a moment to ponder her answer, something tells me that there's more to it, but I content myself with what she's given me.

"The way you cut yourself that time… I mean the sense of those cuts I tended… I've seen wounds like those before…" damn this is harder to ask than I thought. "I guess I'm asking if you tried to…"

"I don't know," she cuts off my rant. "All I remember is that I couldn't get a release and just wanted to stop feeling the way I did… or I was trying to feel period …" I have to strain my ears to understand her words. "I think… I think part of me knew that I was most likely to cross the limits," she confesses. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She looks at me but averts her eyes quickly. "Well… I guess… I did then," she rests her head against the wall and closes her eyes one more time.

I think I'm going to be sick. To have her admitting that yes, she did attempt to her life is terrifying. Her answer brings a new wave of questions. What brought her to that point? How come everyone (including me) failed to notice that she was in a bad place and needed help?

A sudden guilt rises from the pit of my stomach and wraps itself around my ribcage, making it hard to breathe. I ignored the signs.

I walked in on her when she was crying, and I didn't do anything. I chose my ego over my reason and walked away. Granted there are no guaranties that things would have been different had I offer a friendly ear or shoulder, but it was still something. I walked away when I knew something was wrong.

I put the incident in the back of my mind and never reached out after that. I let her sink to the bottom, when I could have made a difference.

I think I'm going to be sick.

**Sara's POV**

Domino effect, it's all about domino effect…

I keep repeating this mantra in my head to justify the fact that I'm talking about things I really don't want to talk about. I figured that being stuck here with Catherine was a good opportunity to pluck up the courage to talk to her about things that should be said between us. I know myself, and if left on my own devices I wouldn't have talked to her any time soon; but Adam's right (once again) it doesn't matter how I proceed to get my life back on track and fix what has been broken, what matter is that I do something.

Unconsciously I think that I've relented to answer her question about my cutting, hoping that maybe she'd take that into account when I finally tell her what I've come to realize after much thinking about dominos and domino effect.

I've come to understand that in my effort to ignore my loss and deny the grieving process, I threw away my friendship with Cath; it made me sick when what I had done and the reason why I had done it finally became clear to me. Sure I can go on never addressing the issue, but in that aspect Adam is right, dealing with Reese's death means dealing with everything connected directly or indirectly to it.

That being said it's not an easy conversation, after all there's no nice way to say 'I've screwed you over'. Yes, because I know now that it's exactly what I did, even though at the time I didn't realize that it was the case then.

"How is it going with your girlfriend?" the words come out of my mouth before I can think about it.

The temperature of the room has dropped in a second, I can feel it, just like I can feel Cath's cold stare burning holes through my eyelids. I open my eyes and stare back at her, sure enough anger is radiating from her like a small aura.

"The day I came back on the night shift, I saw you kissed a woman as I drove away… I figured… well you've been humming…" I tried to explain that I haven't spied on her, just noticed things. "Nevermind."

Loosening her jaw looks quite painful at this instant, the algid tone of her voice is not surprising when she speaks again. "She's fine… she's great even. And things are going extremely great between us."

She's stressing every word, like she was nailing them into my skull with a hammer.

"I want to be with her, and crazier still she really wants to be with me. Funny how the smallest detail can make the hugest difference."

I snort. "A kick in the teeth would have been more subtle."

"And less effective," she shoots me dagger with her eyes and then stands up abruptly.

"Just a statement, not a complain," I make a small pout. "I deserved that"

Well that's a good segue as any, now's the time to bite that bullet.

She lets out a dry chuckle, bitterness colouring her feature.

"I owe you an apology… apologies," I correct myself. "About everything that…"

"We're not having this conversation!" she seethes through her teeth a threatening finger pointed in my direction.

"If not now, when?" I question her calmly. "I'm not ecstatic at the idea of talking about it all, but it needs to be done even I know that, and we both know that avoidance is a gig I'm good at."

"You'll excuse me for not being up for a Sara Sidle pity party."

Her barbs hit home and hard, lucky me I wasn't expecting that moment to taste like cotton candy. "You ask me to talk to you, this is what I'm doing now…"

"No!" she cuts me off again. "No, no. I was talking about your destructive habit."

"It is all connected…" I stand up and close a bit of the space between us.

"You got nerves! You don't get to blame me for that!"

"I'm not blaming you for anything!" I raise my voice, but level it instantly not wanting to antagonize her any more than she already is. "Haven't you learnt anything? We've been through this countless times, fucking things up and moving on never dealing with anything; need I remind you how well that worked?"

She balls her fists tightly but doesn't say anything. "I've fucked up… I'm taking the whole responsibility of what happened between us. All I'm saying is that this issue needs to be addressed, I have to talk to you and you have to listen; unless of course you have something better to do right at this moment."

She's boiling, I'm well aware of it. The simple fact that she's biting her tongue not to say anything means that she knows I'm right, it also goes to show how far we've made it from our old ways.

"You were apologizing," this mumble is the best invitation to continue that I'll get so I don't retort and just launch the dreaded conversation.

"Something happened…" I start with an unsteady voice. "Something that made my whole life crumble down…I can't talk about it but…"

A cold laughter erupts from her throat. "Are you fucking kidding me?" she asks with a rictus of disbelief. "You've just t spent the past five minutes telling me that we need to talk only to say that you can't talk about it?" she frowns. "I mean… wow, you're turning mind screwing into an art."

"Would you please back the fuck off and give me a moment to get it out?" I snap minding the level of my voice.

Anger is her primary defence mechanism, I get it. I also know that I have to stand my ground when facing her wrath if I want to make a point.

I don't think she was expecting my outburst but it has the desired effect, she's speechless.

"I've been in a bad place for quite some time now. And one day I'll be able to tell you all about it, providing that you care, but right now I can't; I can't because just thinking about it," my voice starts to wavers but I clear my throat and allow myself a second or two to compose myself again. "It's hard for me to think about it and it's even more excruciating to voice it all to myself… "

I take a deep breath not to stop. "It is only now that I'm facing all of this, and it led me to understand a few things. One of those things was the fact that I…"

Here comes the bomb.

"I used you."

Everything stops completely during the few seconds it takes for my words to fully register. Colours drain from her face and I know right at this moment that I couldn't have hurt her more if I had literally opened her ribcage, grabbed her heart and squeezed.

"I used you," I repeat. "I was in a very bad place, I had just gone through a lot more than I could handle. I unable to face my issue to the point that I deny it was there …" I rush into the explanation.

I pause trying to make as much sense as I can because I know it's only a matter of time before she reacts, and when she does my words will stop registering altogether.

"I didn't use you intentionally. At the time I really thought that I wanted this, I wanted to be with you. Now that I'm finally starting to face my demons I have a perspective and an insight that I didn't have then. I know that I throw myself into our relationship and hung on it for dear life ignoring the warning in the back of my mind that told me that this wasn't healthy and that was I was doing was wrong…"

I can feel bile rising up from my guts, she's looking at me like she was seeing me for the first time. "I truly regret putting you through this, it's despicable and I have no excuse. I swear I had no intention to hurt you. I wasn't ready to be with you, or with anybody for that matter… I fucked up, I fucked up bad… I've come to realize that I wasn't with you to actually be with you; being with you was a way to escape my issue, and I'm truly sorry about everything."

She's heaving slowly, her lips moves several times as if she was about to say something but she stays silent, staring blankly at me.

I suddenly feel my cheek sizzling, it takes me a second to understand that she has slapped me with all her might. She blinks then staggers a bit as she takes a step away from me. Her slap took me aback but her reaction was to be expected, what I hadn't expected was the emotionless laughter escaping her throat right now.

When she looks at me again her face is contorted with hurt. "Just when I thought that you couldn't hurt me any more than you did, you outdo yourself," she snorts. "I don't know why I'm surprised, after all you're Sara Sidle, miss overachiever."

The words hurt but I can't complain, I deserve them. It doesn't matter that I didn't mean to hurt her, the fact is that I was selfish. She was upfront about having feelings for me when we got together and I just did my hardest to ignore the lingering feeling that something was off and that I didn't really want to be with her.

"You enjoy screwing me over," she states more than asks. "I mean you must to do it so often."

"Cath, I'm truly sorry about everything…"

"Like it matters!" she comes back into my face and shoves me hard. "Why did you tell me this? Wasn't it enough to break my heart in the first place, you had to make me feel more miserable?! Why the fuck did you tell me this for?!"

"I'm not enjoying this, I just wanted to be honest with you, I owed you that…"

"No! You didn't _have to_ screw me over once again! I didn't _need_ to hear this!" she groans with frustration and steps away from me. "You never care about anyone's feelings, it's all about you! It's all about your conscience here. What do I give a shit if you don't feel alright about it?! I've taken enough shit from you as it is already! But no, you had to put another layer, how generous of you!"

"Cath…"

"Shut up! Just shut up!" she stops me and retreats into a row of shelves.

I go back to the wall and slide down against it once more, I hug my legs to my chest and rest my forehead against my knees.

Fuck.

**Cath's POV**

I'm cursing under my breath, biting on my fist to smother my sob. In all the years I've been working as a CSI there was only one time I let my emotions get the best of me and allowed myself to shed a few tears at work. It was a gruesome case involving children, things I wish I had never seen, or known. It was too much and it had hit too close to home; I cried silently for a few minutes unable to control my emotions. I berated myself afterwards because the lab is the last place I ever want to be vulnerable.

That time I had allowed myself 5 minutes of weakness, even then it felt too much. I'm a woman, _de facto_ I'm considered unfit for this 'tough' job, weakness is a luxury I can't afford, not at work. After that day I promised myself never to let myself go like that.

That was before I met Sara.

I've been sobbing like a baby for at least 10 minutes and I can't seem to control myself anymore. I'm trying to calm down but I can't. I'm back 7 months ago when we broke up, when I couldn't bother getting out of bed, when breathing was hard enough to make me cry, when I cried for days on end thinking I'd never stop.

I hate Sara right now. Literally.

I hate her because…

I hate her because she has hurt me, yet again. And it's more painful than before, when I thought it was impossible to hurt any more than I did then. I was wrong. The hurt is tenfold and it's quite a miracle that I can still breathe right now.

I bite harder on my knuckles almost breaking the skin, the sharp sting finally snaps me out of it. Tears keep rolling silently along my cheeks but from hurt little girl I morph into a furious woman.

I'm not letting her drag me to rock bottom again. She doesn't have the right, I'm not giving her that power.

I erase my tears furiously and compose myself again, letting my anger fill me up completely. I can do anger, I'm good with it, it makes me strong.

I look at my watch and frown, I stand up and go back to the entrance, Sara is sitting against the wall her head resting on her knees; I don't give her much more attention and go to the phone. I push the speaker phone button just so I won't have to relay the info to Sara afterward.

"_Grissom_."

"Either my watch is deceiving me or you forgot that we were trap in a room."

"_Catherine?_"

"No this is Santa Claus speaking," I bite. I wish he could react faster than he does. "I fail to hear someone taking a crack at the door. We've been here for hours and I've reached the end of my rope. So use a chainsaw if you have to but for goodness sake send someone!"

"_I understand. I hadn't forgotten about you, I've called again and they sent someone, they should be here in thirty minutes, so just be a little more patient_."

"I don't have any patience left," I reply before hanging up.

Either it's me or the walls have shrunk a little more because I suddenly feel very oppressed in the confined space; I instinctively retreat to my spot at the far end of the room, any distance with Sara is welcome at the moment.

I only come back when I hear noise by the door, Grissom's thirty minutes turned into yet another hour. Sara has lifted her head up, looking at the door as we hear muffled voices and see it being shaken.

"I told you because I want my friend back."

Sara's voice rings out of the blue. "I was a shitty lover but I was a good friend. I am…" she goes on. "We were good at being friends, I miss it," her eyes never stray from the door as she speaks.

She dares looking at me again "I miss you."

Something gets through my anger, I know it does because I can feel my chest contracting for a second, but my anger doubles and I just chortle bitterly. "Let's be friends, sure…" I nod. "The cheap girl in me can't get enough of being screw over and over again and can't wait for another round."

There's a twisted feeling of joy pulsing through my veins when I see Sara's pained expression. She's about to say something but I cut her off.

"We're not friends anymore. That ship sunk," I elaborate with finality. "I mean, with friends like you who needs enemies?"

The door finally opens. If I wasn't already extremely angry I'd have snapped at Grissom and whoever opened the door. We've waited over six hours for something that barely took 10 minutes to be fixed.

**Sara's POV**

"Freedom!" Grissom exclaims when the door finally swings open. Catherine all but bold out of there like her pants were on fire.

Grissom looks at me with a puzzled expression and I just shrug, not trusting my voice for an answer.

He sighs. "I suppose I should feel contented about the fact that no blood was shed."

I exit the room silently. I just want to go home, I'm itching for a release.

**Adam's POV**

Catherine hates silence. At least she can't stand it when she's in my presence, or with someone who makes her feel vulnerable. If she's come to trust me over time, she never really felt comfortable in my office; case in point, she never stayed more than three minutes without saying something even if it didn't make sense, even if it was irrelevant.

If her habit to rub her hands together in a slow, odd yet regular pattern when she feels particularly exposed hadn't been a clue enough as to what her current state of mind is, the fact that she hasn't said anything for the past 40 minutes sure is.

When we went over the three minutes mark I've briefly wondered if she has lost her voice due to too much screaming; by the 20 minutes mark I supposed that I had somehow crossed some invisible portal to another dimension. So yes, now that we have hit the 40 minutes mark I've started to expect the apocalypse.

"I was stuck in a room with Sara for seven hours," words finally come out of her mouth. "To answer your question, we both made it alive."

No apocalypse then.

Her hands stop moving briefly. "Three things occurred. One, I was comforted in the notion that I wanted our friendship back. Two, she made another chip at my heart and all that led to number three, everything finally hitting home."

She clears her throat. "We've already discussed one, so let's skip to number two. I'll give the main lines of what she said, in essence she didn't want to be in a relationship with me, I was just a convenient escape route from her issues, whatever they were… are."

The rubbing of her hands start again. "That was quite a blow, to say the least," she snorts, hurt still evident on her features.

She falls into silence for a few minutes and just when I'm about to ask her about number three she speaks again. "Once the veil of my anger… and anger is an understatement here, once it thinned, I was able to process what she said. Reflecting on her words led me to number three, which was me realizing that a part of me was well aware of all this."

She sighs and stands up, she doesn't pace, just walks around the room. "I think I was blinded by the way I felt, and too busy contemplating the fact that I finally had what I wanted; so I discarded anything else. There were moments when I could see that she wasn't there with me, but I brushed it off not wanting to lose what we had, even though it wasn't great."

She studies my library for a long moment, most likely gathering her thoughts. "She said that she was in a bad place, I knew that. She had broken up with Greg months prior to my birthday… that's when I first kissed her with feelings. Thinking about it all, I'm pretty sure she was in a bad place when she was still with him. As a matter of fact I can pinpoint the moment I noticed that something was wrong. Whatever it is, it happened when I was away in Montana because when I came back she had changed and not in a good way."

"It's only now that I realize that I might have let her down, as a friend I mean, with that perspective I see that she's been walking on the edge for quite some time and she actually almost jumped."

She plays nervously with her fingers. "Yes, she did break my heart; yes, she did hurt me badly…" she sighs. "But I still intend to go to her place and tell her that I miss my friend too and that I'm ready to work it out again. Of course I'll expose her my terms but the point is that I'm not going to walk away."

She holds still for the first time since she came here, sign that she finally made sense of whatever was bothering her. "You might say I have a thing for people who hurt me, or maybe that I'm doing this because I feel guilty about everything, but it's not that. The truth is that in spite of everything I still lo…"

She purses her lips not to let the word slip any further but we've both heard it loud and clear. "I still care a lot about her," she amends her words. "You taught me that people screw up big time but that as long as I care then I shouldn't give up."

She passes her hands in her hair and lets out a long breath. "Right, I think we're done for today."

With her jacket in hand she stands to go to the door. She has a moment of hesitation before going out and turns to me. "Two words."

Her statement puzzles me a little so I just wait for her to go on. "I think I forgot what your voice sounds like. I hear it in my head mind you, but… I guess the real deal's different. So, yeah, you get the last two words."

I take a moment to choose carefully then decide that I want to close with a bang and on a high note. "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious," I articulate the first word. "Dingo."

Catherine stares at me, the way she blinks quickly lets me know that her mind tripped over my choice of words; she fights it for a few second but a grin stretches her lips and finally a light laughter erupts from her throat.

"Oh screw you…" she tries to hold her laughter. "You ruined my dark and deep mood."

I tilt my head with a small pout but she voices my thought before I get the chance. "Yeah, yeah I asked for it… shut up," she replies with a smirk. "I'll see you next time smarty pants," and with that she leaves my office.

She does come back a few seconds later. "Adam?" she waits for me to give her my full attention. "Thank you," she adds before leaving for good.

**Sara's POV**

To say that I'm surprised to find Catherine on the other side of my door would be a huge understatement. After our last talk three days ago I was expecting coldness, I was expecting to be ignored and to have to crawl on glass to try and bargain a place back in her good grace. Instead of all that she's here, what's more, if she's angry it doesn't show at all.

I take a step back to invite her in but she stays outside.

"I was furious and hurt the other day. When I get hurt I fight back to hurt in return; everything I said was emotional talk."

I just nod, I'm expecting this to be a dream and if it's the case I'd like to hear it through.

"I miss you too."

I have to remind myself to breathe at this statement. My heart swells and starts to race, it takes all I have to keep my emotions in check.

"I miss you," she repeats. "I miss us, I miss my friend."

She breaks eye contact for a brief moment and takes a deep breath. "I'm here because I want all that back. However I have conditions because I feel like more often than not I'm always the one holding the shitty end of the stick. I don't want that anymore," she announces firmly. "First, I want to know what that thing you can't talk about is. I'll wait, as long as I have to but I want the guarantee that I'll get the full picture, you owe me that."

She marks a pause, probably expecting me to protest but I don't say anything. "Second, I need the guarantee that you will talk to me when things don't go well. I don't have a crystal ball, so I can't know what you feel, what you think or what's going on unless you let me in. I promise that it'll go both ways, because I'm committing myself to this friendship, to us. I refuse to be shut out, no matter what happened I want you to promise that you'll come and talk to me. We're only good when we communicate."

"Third," she doesn't wait to continue this time. "I know I can't get you to promise that you won't do it again, but I want you to come to me when you feel the need to cut yourself; like I said I hate the idea of you hurting yourself so let me be your safety net."

She frowns, trying to decide if she has forgotten something or not. "I think that's all for now, but we can amend all this as we go," she nods with finality. "Those are my terms, take it or leave it."

**Cath's POV**

I've given Sara an ultimatum, either she accepts my terms with no conditions or we forget about our friendship. I've been reasonable in my terms, I mean we can't work any other way. I _won't_ try it any other way, because our old ways always end up with me hurt, I'm not letting that happening again.

That's the reason why I've decided that if she doesn't accept my terms then no matter what I'll stick to my guns and walk away from this, it's all or nothing.

I'm expecting her to argue, but then I wonder if I need to expect her to surprise me every time from now on, because when she speaks it's nothing that I had anticipated.

"I promise I'll tell you everything, once I'm ready, that will take time but I'll get there," her voice is steady and doesn't show a hint of hesitation. "I promise that I'll talk to you whenever things are wrong… actually that I'll talk to you, period."

She breathes in deeply when she comes to the third term. "I promise that I'll come to you if I feel the urge de cut myself."

I'm amazed and slightly dumbfound, because it's not like her not to put up a fight, it's a bit unsettling to have her agreeing so easily with me; I'm not complaining because it means that we'll get back on track but still, it feels weird.

"I know that most of our fallouts are my fault, because I wouldn't talk or I'd push you away; because I'd take the easy way out thinking that it was my way or the highway. It's hard for me to let people in, and it's silly but it took me time to get my head out of my ass and admit that it was hard for everybody. I'm good at pushing people away, as you surely have noticed. I'm not stupid though, I know that if I keep like this you won't come back and I know how lucky I am to be given yet another chance, so… you know, if you want me to crawl on broken glass, I'll do it because I don't want to lose you. I need you in my life."

There are a few seconds during which I'm questioning whether I'm facing Sara or a clone. For someone who's not good at opening up and talking, she exceeds expectations when she does. She got my heart thundering in my chest, with the way she looks at me and the sincerity dripping from her words.

"The whole crawling on broken glass is a tad overrated," I try to alleviate the tension.

"Whatever it takes," she replies seriously.

"As long as you keep your word, we're good," I assure her and she nods in return. I grab the bag I had to put down and lift it up for her to see. "Breakfast?"

Going slow never gets us anywhere, it has always been a constant between Sara and I. I think the only way to pick up our friendship where we left off, is to dive right back in.

The shadow of a grin tugs at the corner of her lips and she steps back again, this time I come in. I turn around to ask her something but words fail me instantly when I find myself wrapped into an awkward hug. Sara doesn't let go though, once I'm over my initial shock I respond to her embrace.

She has initiated a hug I can count on one hand the times that happened, just when I think that maybe the world started spinning backward without me noticing, I frown when I feel her shake slightly.

Is she crying?

I'm about to ask her if everything is alright but she pulls back and coughs, dashing to the kitchen to cover her emotional state. "Tea, coffee or cocoa?" she asks as if nothing had happened. I decide not to push my luck and pretend not to see her wiping tears of her eyes.

"So what's your actual status on 'Stony Sidle's great adventure?'" I ask out of the blue.

The tale of what she did when she was super high last month is still a hot subject for the windmill, as a matter of fact there's a new version almost every day. It's a common joke now to find out just how crazy the story goes.

"I… believe that I'm running in the corridors in my underwear covered with golden powder," she takes me in stride right away.

"Really?" I frown. "Huh… last time I checked you had your shirt on… no pants but your shirt on."

"I should be naked soon at this rate," she chortles.

"Yeah," I agree with a chuckle of my own. "You know, come to think of it, I'm surprised you lasted this long with your clothes on."

"I know, right?"

We both laugh and slip easily in comfortable conversation.

And that's how it all starts again, with a breakfast and a few jokes.

* * *

**Thanks for reading**


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